


most ardently

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pride and Prejudice References, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: “I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”[or the slight pride & prejudice au. scandals and balls and dramatic declarations in the rain, oh my!]
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala & Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 84
Kudos: 216





	1. Chapter 1

Boredom was something that often plagued the Skywalker residence, but it only ever worsened in the summertime. And as a close friend of the head of the Skywalker family, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not excluded from their daily amusements. Such was the case now, with Anakin Skywalker, that very head of the Skywalkers, lounging on the day couch in Obi-Wan’s office.

Ahsoka Tano, ward of the Skywalkers, lay on an opposite couch and took turns throwing a small ball across the room with Anakin. The thump of the ball against the wall accompanied the otherwise soft sounds of boredom in the office: Anakin’s heavy sighs, his boots’ brushes against the hardwood floors, the scratch of Obi-Wan’s pen on paper.

When Anakin sighed a third time and Ahsoka’s ball bounced a fifth, Obi-Wan lifted his head from his paper. “You needn’t stay here,” he said. “I am clearly not very good entertainment.”

Ahsoka caught her ball. “Oh, but we don’t come to you for mere entertainment,” she said lightly.

“That’s right,” Anakin added, swinging his legs off the couch and onto the floor. He pushed himself off the couch, and walking to Obi-Wan’s side, said, “We’re just here for the company.”

“Well, clearly,” Obi-Wan said, resuming his writing, “I am not particularly good company either.”

“We can improve that,” Anakin said, and faster than Obi-Wan could register, Anakin snatched the letter from the desk. Ignoring Obi-Wan’s sound of protest, Anakin danced away from the desk, his bright eyes scanning the paper. “What have we here?”

“Anakin, give it—”

But Anakin’s eyes slowly made its way down the paper, realization dawning on his face. Ahsoka, watching her brother’s reaction, swept herself off her seat and joined his side. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning back in his chair as Anakin and Ahsoka looked up from the letter.

“Really,” Obi-Wan said at Anakin and Ahsoka’s stunned expressions. “I told you I wouldn’t be good company.” He stood up and made to reclaim his letter, but Anakin took a quick step back. Obi-Wan, hand still in the air, gave Anakin an annoyed look before taking another step forward. “Anakin—”

“I thought you said Maul wouldn’t be a bother anymore,” Anakin said sharply. “I thought you said that business was finished.”

“I never said such a thing,” Obi-Wan replied, and this time, he managed to pick the letter out of Anakin’s hands. Returning to his desk, he added, “I said that the business with Maul was _near_ finished.” He looked over his shoulder once and, at Anakin and Ahsoka’s concerned looks, he said, “Maul’s disappearance doesn’t mean he won’t return. If and when he does, the proper measures must already be in place.”

With that, Obi-Wan turned to the rest of his letter. He was aware of Anakin and Ahsoka’s eyes boring into him. After a few moments of silence, Obi-Wan said, “You do not have to concern yourself with these personal affairs.” He put emphasis on the last words in hopes to have both Anakin and Ahsoka to back away from the subject matter, but the small scoffing sound Anakin made told Obi-Wan that the gesture had done anything but.

“Do you _think_ Maul will come back?” Ahsoka asked then.

Obi-Wan turned around to the girl. She had her arms folded across her chest, her eyes trained on the letter. And behind her, Anakin looked just as warily at the letter in Obi-Wan’s hands.

“I am merely being prepared,” Obi-Wan said at last.

“Merely,” Anakin repeated dryly. Then, lifting his eyes back up to Obi-Wan, he said, “Well, if you’re _merely_ being prepared, then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if we take a trip away from this place.”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked wearily.

Anakin moved forward, and for a moment, Obi-Wan thought Anakin was going to try to grab the letter again. In preparation, Obi-Wan automatically pushed the letter behind himself, but Anakin just smirked. Leaning against the desk and looking down at him, Anakin repeated, “A trip.”

“Anakin…”

“I have just recently inherited a rather impressive estate in the countryside,” Anakin said. “And given the current situation,” he added, tossing Ahsoka a smile, who only beamed back, “I think we could all use a bit of a getaway from these dreadful matters.” He swung his gaze back around to Obi-Wan. “Just think—a few weeks in the countryside. Fresh air, greenery—”

Obi-Wan only shook his head. “Problems don’t disappear just because you leave for the countryside.”

“No, but they make them so much more comfortable,” Anakin said cheerfully. Coming upon that seemingly clever conclusion, Anakin leaned a little closer to Obi-Wan.

“Well?” he asked. “Tell me you don’t think that’s a splendid idea.”

“That’s not a splendid idea,” Obi-Wan said flatly. He stood up from the desk, letter still in hand. “I am glad that you two at least have found some entertainment in teasing me.” He folded the letter over and turned around to Anakin and Ahsoka, who were still watching him, their expressions only a degree muted than before.

“You two are free to go on holiday,” Obi-Wan said at last, managing to gentle his own tone just a bit. He didn’t blame them for wanting to go away. The city was a dreadful place to be during the summer, and he knew that his friends required a little extra vigor in their lives. They were also significantly younger than he: Anakin had only just turned twenty-three a few months ago, and Ahsoka was but seventeen, already growing bored with staying in only one corner of the world. The siblings’ desire to explore beyond their own bounds had fed off of the other’s since early age, and there had been a time when Obi-Wan himself had probably contributed to that excitement, but he was thirty-six years old and felt decades older than even that.

“And you _need_ a holiday,” Anakin said now, pushing himself away from the desk. “When was the last time you did anything of leisure?”

“I’m a busy man,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Aren’t we all,” Anakin said. He walked to Obi-Wan’s side and, even though Obi-Wan tried to tuck the letter away, Anakin’s hands were too fast—he plucked the letter from Obi-Wan’s hands and held it high above him, a smirk spreading across his face. “And _if_ you really need to, you can continue to send letters from the estate.”

“You are a _child_ ,” Obi-Wan said, reaching for the letter, but Anakin only held it higher over himself. “An absolute _child_.”

“Go on,” Anakin said cheerfully. “That’ll help your case.”

“I think he has a point,” Ahsoka called from the background. When Obi-Wan turned, she had also picked herself up off her seat, and now she was walking towards them with a poorly concealed look of glee.

“You could still work on your letters and take care of your business from the estate,” she said, taking the letter from Anakin’s hands. She flipped it over and over in her grip, her head tilted to the side. “Of course, you must promise to spend at least _half_ of your time outside dallying with us, but should you feel the need to do so, you can always resume handling your affairs.”

She gestured out the windows. “Besides,” she added, “a change in scenery might help. It would be much easier to focus on serious matters when you’re at least standing in fresh air, don’t you think?”

Obi-Wan only shook his head. “Becoming quite the negotiator now, aren’t you?”

Ahsoka smiled. “I learned from the best,” she said, handing the letter back to Obi-Wan’s waiting palm.

Obi-Wan folded the letter over again and tucked it in his jacket pocket before either sibling could snatch it back again. When he looked up, he still found that the two were looking at him expectantly.

“Well?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan flicked his gaze between his friends. Anakin and Ahsoka, although not related by blood, had become as close as any other pair of siblings he had ever known. They looked completely different—Ahsoka, with her darker skin and her lithe, willowy frame in comparison to Anakin’s considerably lighter tones and broad stance, but the two wore identical expressions of mischief that Obi-Wan was sure they had perfected and mirrored from one another over the span of their childhood.

Obi-Wan sighed and looked back out the window. The roofs of other buildings and the streets were the only things that greeted him.

He turned back around to Anakin and Ahsoka, who were still waiting.

“Only for a short while,” Obi-Wan said at last.

Anakin and Ahsoka beamed—well, Ahsoka beamed, while Anakin swung an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Wonderful,” his friend said, delighted. “Then we’ll have to start packing right away. Ahsoka already has her things ready.”

Obi-Wan managed to look up at Anakin. “You mean to tell me that you already—”

“Please,” Anakin said loftily, “you aren’t the only one capable of planning things in advance.” He flashed Obi-Wan a wicked, wicked grin that Obi-Wan had had no choice but to grow somewhat fond of (and more so exasperated of) over the long years of their friendship.

“Planning, indeed,” Obi-Wan muttered, but he stood up and followed Anakin and Ahsoka out of the room.

\--

“You didn’t tell me that your great-uncle was coming along,” Obi-Wan murmured to Ahsoka the next morning.

“I didn’t know until today,” Ahsoka said, and Obi-Wan noticed that the girl didn’t sound that much happier than Obi-Wan felt. She huffed, crossed her arms over her chest. “I blame this all on Anakin. He had to open that mouth of his.”

Obi-Wan looked to where Anakin was politely nodding along to something his great-uncle was saying. Palpatine looked at Obi-Wan once, nodded his head with a frozen smile that never quite reached his eyes. Obi-Wan managed a halfhearted nod back.

Palpatine only turned back to Anakin, resumed whatever it was he deemed appropriate for Anakin’s ears.

Obi-Wan let out a quiet breath. Or he had meant for it to be quiet—but Ahsoka heard it, because she glanced up at Obi-Wan with a look as unhappy as Obi-Wan felt. “I _did_ ask him to not bring him along,” she muttered.

“I’m sure you did,” Obi-Wan replied. He looked at Ahsoka. The young girl looked ever so displeased—and she was probably more displeased than Obi-Wan was himself. Obi-Wan at least wasn’t related to the family, so he could be free of the great-uncle’s presence, but Obi-Wan imagined that Ahsoka’s patience ran shorter, especially given how much time she probably had to suffer through with him.

“Come along,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the carriage. “We’ll do our best to divert your uncle’s attention from whatever it is he has to say.”

Ahsoka brightened. “Talk about your books,” she said. “If you talk about your books, then Anakin will tease, and then Palpatine won’t bring in his politics at all.”

Obi-Wan managed a smile. “Do you have a preference of the book for discussion?”

“Your most boring one,” Ahsoka replied cheerfully.

“As you wish,” Obi-Wan said, and he gestured to the carriage.

Ahsoka nodded a little to Obi-Wan, and then she was walking down to the carriage, her chin lifted high. “For goodness’ sake, you two,” she said loudly upon reaching Palpatine and Anakin, “we can’t just stand around here _all day_ , now, can we?”

Without waiting for a response, Ahsoka opened the carriage door herself, and Obi-Wan watched with what he hoped was just thinly concealed amusement as Ahsoka pushed herself into the seat. Anakin started smiling, and then he gestured for his great-uncle to enter first.

And then Anakin went inside, and then Obi-Wan was the last one in. The door closed, and then the carriage was off with a start.

Obi-Wan looked sideways to Ahsoka—she was sitting next to him, while Anakin and Palpatine sat across. In a neutral voice, he started, “I was just telling Ahsoka about the most _delightful_ book I read…”

\--

“No more talk of stars or butterflies,” Anakin said, practically flinging open the carriage door before they even came to a proper stop. “I think I’ve heard enough of stars and butterflies.”

“You certainly had a good deal of fun pointing out that much,” Obi-Wan said lightly, following Anakin out the carriage. He didn’t bother turning around to know that Ahsoka was trying hard not to laugh—and Palpatine, alternatively, was probably sending him a particularly displeased look, but Obi-Wan didn’t quite care for the man’s opinion of him. Obi-Wan had established that with both the man and himself a long time ago now.

“I had ad good deal of fun,” Anakin said, “and then the fun grew stale.”

Obi-Wan shielded his eyes with a hand and turned to the green fields before him. Really, everywhere green. A few trees and shrubs, but all the same, a mostly good deal of green grasses and blue skies. A warm breeze passed by. “The air seems rather fresh to me,” he said.

Anakin snorted. “Very good, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Skywalker.”

The two grinned at each other.

“See?” Anakin asked, turning around. “I told you this was a good idea.”

“Yes, well, perhaps.”

“So I have wonderful ideas.”

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, mildly amused. “You have wonderful ideas.”

“Wonderful. And I have another wonderful idea,” Anakin said. He turned to Obi-Wan, flashing him yet another wide smile. “There’s a ball tonight. In town. And we’re going.”

Obi-Wan blinked.

And then he said, “We only just got here.”

“Exactly,” Anakin said enthusiastically. “What better way to start off our holiday?”

“We’ve been _traveling_ —”

“And now I feel the need to stretch my legs,” Anakin interrupted.

“Anakin—”

“We have the whole rest of the afternoon to _rest_ , if someone such as yourself needs to,” Anakin said. “But in the evening, I’ll trust that you’ll be just as willing to come along and join us.”

Obi-Wan sighed. And then he looked back to the carriage, where Ahsoka was now shifting rather quickly away from her great-uncle. She only looked at Anakin and Obi-Wan and gestured pointedly towards the house. Obi-Wan imagined instead spending the night alone in the house with no one else save for Anakin and Ahsoka’s great-uncle for company. The thought made him shudder.

“One of these days, your spontaneity is going to get the best of you,” Obi-Wan said at last. “You ought to know that now.”

“What makes you think I don’t already know?” Anakin asked cheerfully. He pushed Obi-Wan towards the house. “Now come on—we’ve got much to do.”

\--

Obi-Wan discovered that _much to do_ really just meant unpacking and unpacking really meant himself unpacking his clothes before Anakin and Ahsoka came swinging in, saying something about how one or the other had purposely misplaced one garment or the other.

“This is what you get for pressing us into a spontaneous trip,” Obi-Wan said, dropping Anakin’s jacket on his lap. “You misplace things.”

Anakin beamed up at Obi-Wan. “It’s a good thing I’ve asked you to come along then, isn’t it?” he asked cheerfully, swinging his jacket over his shoulders. He sat up and looked at Obi-Wan. “Well, why aren’t you dressed?”

“We’re still leaving then?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Of course we are,” Ahsoka said, and when Obi-Wan looked, she was already picking up one of Obi-Wan’s jackets. “And besides, I think you’re dressed enough. Really.”

Obi-Wan suspected that Ahsoka was only just saying that because she was the most eager to get out of the house, and he suspected that Anakin didn’t bother arguing any further because he, too, was itching to get out of the house. Obi-Wan barely suppressed a sigh as he tugged his jacket on.

“You best not complain to me tomorrow morning of your headache, both of you,” Obi-Wan said as he followed Anakin and Ahsoka out the door. “Otherwise I’ll be sure to lecture you not on stars and butterflies, but on even more mundane topics.”

“Not if you have a headache of your own first,” Anakin said cheerfully.

Obi-Wan only shook his head. “And your uncle?” he asked.

“Dead asleep,” Anakin said. “Don’t worry about him.”

Obi-Wan was, in truth, less worried about what Anakin’s great-uncle had to say and more worried about the words exchanged between the two should they come back too late, but that matter would need to be pondered on later, because now Anakin and Ahsoka were both practically shoving him out the doors of the house.

“There’ll be _so_ many new faces,” Ahsoka was saying as the carriage started. “You have to at least be a little excited about _that_.”

“New faces are all fine and good,” Obi-Wan said, looking out the window. The sky was already rather dark, only instead of the lights of other houses, Obi-Wan saw nothing but the glimmer of stars. “Although we may very well be new faces to them as well.”

“A dramatic entrance, then,” Anakin said. “Fitting.”

Obi-Wan glanced over once at Anakin. His friend didn’t quite seem bothered by the idea of such an entrance, and Obi-Wan supposed he wasn’t entirely surprised by that. All the same, he said, “Not too dramatic, I hope.”

“I won’t make such promises,” Anakin said loftily.

Obi-Wan only shook his head before turning to look out the window again. Now they had moved away from the fields, and Obi-Wan could make out the distant lights of the main part of town. And even from here, he could hear the faintest strains of string instruments, the roaring and singing of men and women alike.

Ahsoka slid to the window too, her eyes bright. “We’re here!”

The carriage had only just come to a stop before Ahsoka was already making her way out. Obi-Wan only looked at Anakin, who beamed at him.

Obi-Wan shook his head again, but he stepped down from the carriage as well.

In almost no time at all, Obi-Wan let himself be led into a cheery, if somewhat small room. The whole space was already rather warm, undoubtedly due to the mass of bodies before him. Dancing, laughing, stomping feet—more energy than the balls Obi-Wan had ever allowed himself to attend, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, and judging by his friends’ faces, Obi-Wan didn’t doubt that they’d enjoy the energy, too.

And yet, as Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka made their way to the ballroom, the music faltered to a stop. The dancing slowed, and just as Obi-Wan had predicted, people turned their way to take in the newcomers—and the recognition that all dawned across their faces came shortly thereafter, much to Obi-Wan’s equal weariness and wariness.

“Mr. Skywalker!” a cheerful voice called from the side, and the three turned to see a dark-eyed young man make his way through the crowd. His hair was unusually short, and he walked in such a manner that made Obi-Wan wonder if he had any military experience. “Glad that you made it here.”

“Rex,” Anakin said warmly, clasping the man’s hand. “Thank you for the invitation. It’s good to meet you in person.”

“Likewise,” the man—Rex—replied. He gestured to the crowd of dancers and merrymakers behind him. “Welcome.”

Obi-Wan met the gazes of the people before him. They all looked curiously upon them—and Obi-Wan had the feeling that their heads were already racking up the rumors and figures associated with the three of them. He glanced again to Anakin and Ahsoka, though they both seemed much too excited with the night to think of the same things.

“Well,” Anakin said loudly, “what are we waiting for?”

With that, some laughter broke out. And then the music picked back up again, and the three of them took that as the cue to walk forward.

\--

Obi-Wan spent the large portion of the night staying to the side of the ballroom. He drank, entertained Ahsoka with one dance, and then returned to his position at the wall. He managed a smile only whenever his friends came close by. Ahsoka was enjoying herself, speaking rather delightedly to a few girls who were her own age. Which Obi-Wan decided was good, as she didn’t have too many…equally energetic companions in the city.

Not that there weren’t any more variation in the people gathered in this ballroom—Obi-Wan spotted a few men and women who were close to his age, perhaps a bit older. A good handful that were younger. He spotted a red-haired woman sulking on the opposite end of the ballroom, and she practically glowered at anyone who came near her way. A little ways from her was an older woman, perhaps closer to Obi-Wan’s age—with blonde curls piled atop her head and blue eyes that caught whatever light was in the room. She seemed to be the only one conversing with this red-haired woman, and once or twice, the blonde woman even managed to drag her into a mock of a dance. Sisters, Obi-Wan guessed only a little later, as an older woman and man approached them.

As for Anakin…Obi-Wan caught his friend dancing happily with a rather pretty young woman, one with dark hair and only slightly lighter brown eyes. The two seemed rather content, and when the music ended to signal the next dance, Obi-Wan noticed that Anakin’s cheeks were flushed, and he suspected that it had nothing to do with the actual energy exerted into the dance.

Obi-Wan lifted his glass Anakin’s way when his friend looked up at him.

“What are you still doing here?” Anakin cried, making his way to Obi-Wan. He plucked the glass out of Obi-Wan’s hand, and drinking quickly from it, he added, “You look lonely just standing here.”

“I assure you that’s not the case,” Obi-Wan replied, taking the glass back. “You know I’m not that fond for dancing.” He nodded to the other side of the ballroom, where Anakin’s dance partner was now, he found, conversing with the red-haired woman. “You seem to have enjoyed your time with your previous partner.”

Anakin only turned a brighter shade of pink. “I did, didn’t I?” he asked happily. “She was wonderful.” He craned his head and looked around the room. “But I think she has sisters you know…for instance, that one over there.” He nodded down the wall, where Obi-Wan noticed that the blonde-haired woman was now standing ways away to his right. She was clapping along to the music now, waving once at the woman who Anakin had danced with. “I could get my last partner to introduce you.”

As if realizing that she had been noticed, the blonde-haired woman looked up, and to Obi-Wan’s mild alarm, they met each other’s gaze.

Obi-Wan turned sharply away. “She is tolerable,” he managed. “But not handsome enough to tempt _me_.” At Anakin’s eye-roll, Obi-Wan added, “Go—dance with your partner. You’re just wasting your smiles on me at this point.”

“Don’t just stand there,” Anakin said, but he started to take a few steps back. “By the end of the night, you _will_ have danced with someone!”

Obi-Wan only gave Anakin a halfhearted wave before lifting the glass back to his lips. He watched the other dancers for a little while longer before risking a quick glance down to his right.

There was no one there.

Obi-Wan returned to his glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, surprise everyone! this is going to be my first crack at a longform obitine au, and...lo and behold, it had to be a pride and prejudice au, because i'm convinced obi-wan and satine are the period drama couple of star wars. i have tentative plans for this fic to be updated weekly, or perhaps every two weeks, depending on my schedule, and hopefully on saturdays. this fic will also be switching perspectives between obi-wan and satine, so not to worry, we will have plenty of the classic satine/lizzy wit and...i suppose in this case, kryze/amidala shenanigans? (i hope no one minds that i just said "okay padme's just gonna be satine's sister". mayhaps another ward, so she's still Padme Amidala, not Padme Kryze.)
> 
> of course, this won't be a *direct* re-work of pride and prejudice-there are, you might have noticed if you're at all familiar with the book/series/movie, some tweaks. (ie. i have decided to do away completely with the rude and snooty caroline bingley figure and replaced her with ahsoka, who is nothing but supportive and an absolute sweetheart. there are some other things that i've tweaked with the storyline, but if you happen to love pride & prejudice, i can assure you that there will still be all of those core components for our lovely ship.)
> 
> as always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!
> 
> if you have any questions or just wanna say hello, my [tumblr is here](https://katierosefun.tumblr.com/)  
> !


	2. Chapter 2

“ _I_ personally don’t see what the excitement is all about,” Bo-Katan was saying when Satine walked into the house. “It’s only another family that’ll be gone by the end of the month.”

“ _Only_ another family,” Satine’s mother was saying. Esme Kryze looked to her daughter as though she had said that the sky was raining pigs. “My dear, it is the _Skywalker_ family. They’ve only just inherited the—”

Bo-Katan made a sound of disgust. “Wonderful.”

Before Esme could scold Bo-Katan for her attitude, the office door swung open, and then Esme was flying across the hall with this clearly wonderful news.

Satine caught her sister’s eye and asked, “What’s so wonderful?”

“What do you expect?” Bo-Katan asked in response, pushing herself away from the wall. “An _incredibly wealthy_ bachelor and his friend and his sister has happened to _grace_ us with their presence.” She nodded to where Esme was speaking in hushed tones to their father, who looked on, amused, at his wife’s excitement.

“You _must_ know that he must marry one of them!” Esme was saying. “You must go and visit at _once_ —for if _we_ cannot, then _you_ —”

“What is she going on about?”

Satine and Bo-Katan turned around to find Padmé coming down the hallway, the expression on her face ever so amused. This was not a sight any of the sisters were unfamiliar with, but still, Satine supposed that it had been a little while since any of them had seen the house so excited.

“Apparently, there is a Mr. Skywalker coming to visit,” Satine whispered. “Incredibly wealthy, and incredibly single.”

Padmé opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the discussion between their parents had escalated, and then Satine’s father was walking down the hallway, looking ever so amused as Esme followed.

“ _Mr. Kryze!_ ” Esme cried, running after her husband. “How can you tease me so? Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?”

“Oh, you mistake me, my dear,” Adonai Kryze replied, smiling at his wife. “I have the _highest_ respect for them.” He looked over Esme’s shoulder, and realizing only now that they did, in fact, have an audience, he smiled again. “Girls. It would appear that you three have a ball to attend.”

Esme let out a delighted little cry, and Bo-Katan only shook her head, and Padmé—Satine exchanged a quick little glance with her sister, who seemed to be doing her best to bite back a smile.

“Oh, go on,” Satine said. “It would do you no real harm to look at least a _little_ pleased.”

Padmé smiled.

“Well, what are you three waiting for?” Esme trilled, turning around to the three ladies. “ _Go_ —we’ve got _much_ to do, and so little time—when are they to come, my dear?”

Satine didn’t listen to whatever it was her father and mother had to discuss. She simply turned around and walked up the stairs with Padmé, who, for all her mildness, still stepped lightly. Meanwhile, Bo-Katan sulked from behind, looking positively bored and annoyed with the state of the house.

As for Satine—well, she certainly had her own reservations about her mother’s excitement with the matter of new people coming into their little unexcitable town. But she would have rather liked to have _something_ to look forward to, especially since not much else happened save for during the holidays. And perhaps an occasional wedding—weddings which Satine always noticed her mother looking particularly anxious during.

Watching Padmé flit around their bedroom, Satine had no doubt that her younger sister would find a match soon enough. They looked nothing alike—Padmé had come from a different family, after all, and was technically a ward, but Satine and Bo-Katan firmly believed she was more blood-related than anything else.

But with Padmé’s kind, warm eyes and her bright smile and quick wit, Satine was sure that even if her sister didn’t catch the eye of the young Mr. Skywalker, she would be married soon enough. Satine knew that their mother was more worried for Satine herself—she was, after all, the eldest, and she was well aware of some of the whispers that she may very well grow to be an old spinster if she doesn’t hurry and marry soon.

But frankly, Satine couldn’t care much for the rumors. She was satisfied watching her sisters mock and tease each other, as they did now.

“But you really should wear the green one,” Padmé was telling Bo-Katan. “It looks so lovely with your eyes.”

“The green one’s uncomfortable.”

“Well, then, the blue one.”

“The blue one’s also uncomfortable.”

“I could lend you my—”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Satine called from her perch on the bed. “I think we both know Bo would come in her nightgown if she could.”

Padmé looked at Bo-Katan. “You will _not_ go to the ball in a nightgown,” she said.

“I think I shall,” Bo-Katan said, sitting down next to Satine. “It would give Mother _such_ a shock.”

“On your birthday, Bo, you’ll be allowed to wear your nightgown all day,” Satine said. “And Padmé and I will happily join you.”

“We might even talk Mother into it,” Padmé added, catching Satine’s eye. The two of them smothered a smile as Bo-Katan lifted her head.

“I’ll be holding the two of you to that promise,” she said loftily.

“You most certainly can,” Satine replied. She nodded to where Padmé was tugging out some ribbons. “But in the meantime, I think we have more pressing events to prepare for.”

\--

In the end, they _did_ all manage to dress themselves in decidedly non-nightgown garments. Satine noticed her mother relaxing her shoulders at the sight, and then they were off, bustled into the already cheerfully loud hall.

And in the end, that was how Satine found herself alternating between dancing and pulling Bo-Katan into the foray. The hall became too warm too quickly, and on the other side of the hall, Satine spied her mother’s cheeks growing pink from either the heat or drink or mere conversation with her husband, she wasn’t quite sure. Either way, Satine was glad—even when her partner stepped on her toes a few times.

“It’s good to finally be out of the house, don’t you think?” Satine managed to ask Padmé several dances later.

“Very,” Padmé agreed. Her eyes were already bright from dancing, her cheeks slightly flushed. Some curls had come undone and fell past her forehead, but Satine could tell from the small, sneaking looks in their direction that not one person heeded those little imperfections—if they could even be called such!—any mind.

“I think you have some gentlemen waiting,” Satine said, subtly nodding her head in the direction of the other dancers.

“Perhaps,” Padmé said, glancing quickly over her shoulder. “But what about you? Haven’t you anyone to dance with?”

“Of course,” Satine said, biting back a smile. “But I prefer _not_ to spend the entire night with the humorless peacocks, in my opinion. They only ever seem to come to me.”

Padmé let out a short laugh. “Perhaps you’ll be lucky.”

“Perhaps,” Satine said, smiling. She glanced back to the dancers, whose excitement had grown in the last few minutes or so. It was impossible to not at least feel a little giddy from the energy in the room. “But in the meantime—”

Before Satine could finish, the music abruptly stopped, and then the dancers halted. A hush fell over the hall, and both Satine and Padmé turned to the front to where, Satine saw now, three people slowly making their way inside.

It was rather obvious which two had to be the Skywalkers—it was he whom the hall owner went to first, and so Satine had her first good look at the newcomers.

Mr. Skywalker, she found, was a rather young, cheerful looking man, who didn’t so much as pause when he called out for the dancing to resume—and the young woman beside him, who Satine supposed was Miss Skywalker, seemed equally amused and delighted by the music and the dancing that followed.

As for the last member of the party—well—

“And who’s the person with the quizzical brow?” Satine whispered to her sister.

“ _That_ would be Mr. Kenobi.”

Both Satine and Padmé jumped to find their mother hovering behind them. She was, indeed, more red-faced than she had been moments ago, and Satine was glad that the music had started again, for she was sure that otherwise, everyone might have heard Esme.

Their mother looked rather proud of herself as she nodded to where the party was now moving into the rest of the crowd. “He’s _incredibly_ wealthy. _As_ I was trying to tell you girls earlier, he owns _quite_ a good number of estates.”

“Wealthy,” Satine mused, glancing back at the trio. Mr. Kenobi, she found, looked absolutely—

“And miserable, it would seem,” Satine whispered to Padmé. “Look at him! He looks _quite_ —”

“Oh, hush,” Esme interrupted, batting Satine’s arm. “He owns _half_ of Derbyshire.”

“The miserable half, I presume?” Satine whispered, again more so to her sister than to her mother. This time, Esme did not hear—but Padmé did, and the two exchanged a conspiratorial look that they had mastered since they were children.

“Go, then,” their mother said now, pushing both Satine and Padmé into the fray. “ _Dance_.”

“Yes, Mother,” the sisters chorused.

And quickly—almost too quickly, they certainly moved into the dance. Satine dipped her head to her newest _humorless peacock_ , but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mr. Skywalker already joining into the line of dancers. With no small amount of excitement for her sister, Satine watched Padmé and Mr. Skywalker nod to each other—

And the dance began.

Satine’s humorless peacock this time around didn’t step on as nearly as many toes as the last one did, so she found this dance a bit more enjoyable. She spotted Bo-Katan weaving in between spectators, clearly looking for something to do in the midst of all the dancing. And on the other side of the hall, Satine noticed her parents speaking amiably to one another, and then Satine was forced to turn along with the dance—and she noticed Mr. Skywalker and her sister smiling some more, exchanging words that she couldn’t hear over the music.

 _Well_ , Satine thought, glancing once at her mother, who only now seemed to be catching on. _Perhaps some instincts were right, after all_.

With that, Satine bit back a little smile and nodded to her next humorless peacock.

This one danced a little less clumsily as well, and by the time they were finished, Satine allowed herself a few moments of conversation. Frankly, she found that it was rather dull—although the gentleman was nice, he tended to be more interested in speaking of his own accomplishments than anything else. Satine was glad to see Bo-Katan hovering at the edges of the hall.

“Excuse me,” she said quickly, and with a little bob of her head, she rushed off to her youngest sister.

“You certainly seem lonely,” Satine said, looping her arm through her sister’s.

“I couldn’t say the same of you,” Bo-Katan said. She looked over their shoulders, but Satine tugged her sister’s attention back to herself. “Admit it, Satine—you dislike these balls just as much as I do.”

“Not true,” Satine replied. “I only dislike them when the company’s dislikable. And besides, I _did_ need to see to how my _dearest_ sister was faring during this otherwise…excitable night.” At Bo-Katan’s little scowl, Satine smiled. “You needn’t _dance_ with everyone, you know. You could just make conversation with the others.”

“Weren’t you the one who said everyone was dull?”

“Not _everyone_ , just _most_ of them,” Satine replied.

“Well, if it’s _most_ of them…”

Satine laughed, and letting go of her sister’s arm, she said, “Just one dance. _One_.”

“Satine—”

“Just one,” Satine repeated. “And I promise you can glower all you like.”

Bo-Katan sighed.

\--

One dance turned into two—and although Bo-Katan still looked largely uncomfortable, Satine was glad that her sister had at least managed to find some other young ladies to at least converse with in the aftermath of the dance. She supposed that her job was at least finished in that regard, and she found that she didn’t have any particular work to do when it came to Padmé—who was looking absolutely radiant in the glow of the lights, and who now laughed a little into her hand as her partner, Mr. Skywalker, left her with a beaming smile of his own.

Padmé turned to look at Satine once—and Satine winked, looking back to the rest of the dancers.

Although that wasn’t quite true: Satine easily followed Mr. Skywalker through the crowd, and to her surprise, she saw him come rather close—and then Satine realized with a start that she was actually standing a good way from Mr. Kenobi.

Satine turned her head just the slightest, careful not to make the movement too obvious. From this distance, she could better observe him. He was drinking quietly, but his eyes remained sharp, seeming to take in the entire hall with a measured certainty that Satine wasn’t quite sure how yet to decipher. She noticed that he didn’t seem particularly fond for dancing either, as he shook his head when Mr. Skywalker came close to him.

Satine heard Mr. Skywalker’s cheerful voice—and although she couldn’t quite make out the words, she still heard enough to know that he must have been speaking of her sister. Satine only caught onto “she was wonderful”, and Satine’s eyes trailed once more back to Padmé, who was already being asked to dance once again. Her mother looked absolutely thrilled.

Satine couldn’t help but shake her head a little at that: of course their mother would somehow already know.

“She was wonderful,” Satine heard Mr. Skywalker say now, and she quickly straightened, trying her best to look nonchalant as she toed just the slightest closer to get more of the conversation. “But I think she has sisters you know…for instance, that one over there.”

Satine blinked. She was saved by the music, which had already started. She clapped along to the rhythm, found Padmé’s bouncing form a moment later. She waved, though she was only half-paying attention the actual music and dance itself now.

“I could get my last partner to introduce you,” Mr. Skywalker said.

Satine paused. And despite herself, she looked briefly—just once, and she found Mr. Kenobi looking over at her too, although again, just for a moment. Satine quickly looked away, still clapping to the music. She wondered briefly if—

“She is tolerable,” she heard Mr. Kenobi say. “But not handsome enough to tempt _me._ ”

Satine blinked again. Out of all the responses—

 _Well_.

Satine shot Mr. Kenobi a quick look, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was already saying something to Mr. Skywalker, undoubtedly shooing him off to go back to dancing. Satine only looked on for another moment, wondering if perhaps it would be so very rude of herself to go up to this Mr. Kenobi and tell him that _he_ wasn’t particularly handsome enough to tempt _her_ either, but—

 _Ah_ , Satine watched Mr. Skywalker return to her beloved sister. If Mr. Skywalker and Mr. Kenobi were at all friends, then Satine supposed it wouldn’t do their family any good if she were to quarrel with the family friend, even _with_ his insult.

Satine huffed out a small laugh, one that she knew would be lost in the crowd and the music. _Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Kenobi_.

She turned around and went to look for Bo-Katan once more.

\--

Only perhaps they weren’t lucky at all, because at the end of the night, Satine found herself being dragged into a circle of discussion by her mother—a circle of discussion which had clearly originally been meant as just a discussion between two people, those two people being Padmé and Anakin themselves.

But quickly, Satine discovered that she wasn’t the only one interrupting the talks, for she noticed Miss Skywalker at present as well, and, to Satine’s chagrin, Mr. Kenobi. He stayed quietly at Mr. Skywalker’s side, tilting his head to Satine once she came within the vicinity of their little circle.

Satine merely nodded back, again sorely tempted to ask him if he had found a partner handsome enough to tempt him into dancing—but she bit back her tongue, especially as the young Miss Skywalker introduced herself first.

“Ahsoka Tano,” she said— _so not Skywalker_ , Satine automatically corrected in her head. “We’re most pleased to be here.”

“And we are most _delighted_ for you all to be here,” Esme trilled. Satine exchanged a quick look with Padmé, both of them just barely suppressing their own winces at their mother’s much too loud voice. “It’s been _so_ long since we’ve had any newcomers—and to a _ball_ , too— _Mr. Skywalker_ , I noticed you were dancing with our own Padmé?”

“Yes,” Mr. Skywalker said, straightening. He smiled at Padmé. “I had the most wonderful time.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Esme said, “a _wonderful_ dancer, our Padmé—she’s had so _many_ partners over the years—”

Satine and Padmé looked at one another again. Satine quickly reached for her mother’s arm, but her sister was already on the move. “Mother,” Padmé said suddenly. “I really don’t think—”

“There was one gentleman once,” Esme was saying, “when she was younger.” She fanned herself with her hand, and Satine noticed the definite rise of color in her mother’s cheeks that seemed to have only intensified over the course of the night. “We all did think something might come out of it, and he wrote some very pretty verses, but I’m afraid…”

“Well,” Satine said quickly, grabbing hold of her mother’s arm this time, “and that put paid to it.” She glanced around the circle, smiling. “I wonder who first discovered that poetry had the power to drive away love?”

Some laughter at that—and Padmé gave Satine a rather relieved look, one which she would have gladly returned if she weren’t already devising a way to subtly move her mother away from the circle. She wondered where her father might be…

“I thought poetry was the food of love.”

Satine looked across from herself. Mr. Kenobi was looking at her rather expectantly, and while his companions had laughed, he just looked on with either a thoughtfulness or a judgement, Satine didn’t know either, nor, she realized, did she care to decide whichever it was.

“Of a fine, stout love it may,” Satine said, bracing on a smile of her own. “But if it is only a vague inclination, I’m convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.”

“And now I have excuses to no longer read poetry,” Miss Tano said, casting Mr. Skywalker and Mr. Kenobi a rather charmed look. There was some more laughter at that, though Mr. Kenobi remained looking thoughtfully on to Satine.

“Then what would you encourage?” he asked. “To encourage affection?”

Satine paused. She looked at Mr. Kenobi. His tone was measured and even, and Satine wondered if he was perhaps teasing her. _Tolerable_ , he had called her. _Not handsome enough_.

She smiled sweetly. “Dancing,” she replied.

After a beat, she added, “Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.”

And there, Satine knew that she had said the right thing—she must have said the right thing, because she noticed just the barest flicker across Mr. Kenobi’s face. Perhaps shame, and Satine sorely wished it was shame, or perhaps it was just mere confusion. But either way, it was only a flicker before his face became a mask once more.

And with that, Satine curtsied—and when the music started once more, she left.

\--

“Oh, did he really say that about you?”

“Don’t feel too bad for me, Padmé,” Satine said, blowing out the candle. “Imagine if I _had_ danced with him. He would have been insufferable.”

“Another one of your humorless peacocks?”

“Precisely,” Satine said, slipping under the covers. She rolled over on her side. “But enough of that—go on about your wonderful night with the conveniently wealthy Mr. Skywalker.”

“He’s perfectly kind and with good humor,” Padmé replied, pointedly ignoring Satine’s little look. “And he likes to have a good deal of fun. I think I rather liked him.”

“And I think he rather likes you,” Satine said, smiling.

“Do you think he really?”

“He spent most of the night dancing with you and the rest staring,” Satine said. “Of course he does. He’s very agreeable.”

For a moment, Padmé looked ridiculously pleased—but then she said, “Not his friend.”

“Mr. Kenobi?” Satine smiled. “I could more easily forgive his pride, if he had not wounded mine.” At Padmé’s faltering look, Satine shook her head. “Don’t feel too bad for me,” she repeated. “I doubt we’ll ever be seeing each other again very soon.”

Padmé smiled sadly. “I suppose…”

“Now,” Satine said, “enough of Mr. Kenobi. Tell me more about Mr. Skywalker.”

\--

The next morning brought with it a clattering of utensils and plates that were much too loud for the particular hour of morning, but such was always the case after a ball.

“…and Mr. Skywalker danced with Padmé for the fifth _and_ the sixth dance—”

“Such energy,” Adonai mused.

“Oh, Mr. Kryze, the way you talk, you would think our daughters are all owed a grand inheritance—and when you die, which could be very well soon, your daughters won’t actually have a penny to—”

“ _Please_ , Mother,” Satine said, passing Padmé a plate, “it’s barely ten in the morning.”

“Now, just you wait, dear, when _you_ have daughters of your own, try thinking about how—”

“Ma’am?”

The table went quiet as they looked to their servant, a wry young woman who now held out a cream-colored letter out to Padmé. “A letter from Netherfield Hall.”

Satine looked at Padmé, whose eyes widened.

For a moment, no one spoke.

And then Esme said, “Well, go on—open it!”

Satine watched as her sister unfolded the letter in swift movements—and then, eyes quickly moving across the page, Padmé declared, “It’s a letter from Miss Tano.” She looked through the letter once more. “Asking me to dine with her tonight.” She paused, and then frowning, she added, “Her brother will be dining out.”

Another silence at the table.

“Dining out?” Esme asked.

“Mother, can I take the carriage?”

“Dining out,” Esme repeated, more a mumble than anything else. “ _Dining out_ —”

“Mother,” Satine said sharply. “The carriage for Padmé.”

Another beat. Esme glanced towards the windows, as did the rest of the Kryze family. From afar, Satine could see storm clouds beginning to gather.

“Certainly not,” Esme said loftily. “She’ll go on horseback.”

Satine and Padmé exchanged alarmed looks.

“ _Horseback_?” they chorused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is interested, i tend to listen to my [period drama playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5GCbJDY7sCCagPR06Pj89z?si=CJDusB9nTU-9CN0YWg-wyg) as well as my [pop orchestral playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Iks3CV7svqzzxx1afUQV2?si=wLpi7jdCQWm0giatvvrF1A) while writing this story! (and, of course, the [pride & prejudice soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/album/31qEnY1MFmGwOdgjLLClPd?si=aV36Jk5fTRGr6yYS8plYxg).
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

There were certain things that Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t expect. Some things like, for instance, returning home to discover that they had a new guest.

“Padmé Amidala got caught in the rain,” Ahsoka said by way of greeting Obi-Wan and Anakin when they came into the house. She was already dressed for bed, but despite the late hour, she about as energetic as she would be during the day. If anything, she looked rather cheerful. “We think she might be coming down with something, so I told her that she could stay for the night. And potentially the night after that, depending on how her condition might be.”

“She’s—” Anakin started.

“Here!” Ahsoka practically sang. “Upstairs, in one of the guest rooms. I think she’s sleeping now, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind being visited by—”

“Ahsoka, shouldn’t you be in bed by now?” Obi-Wan asked.

Ahsoka leaned against the stair bannister. “Well, shouldn’t _you_ two have been back home an hour ago?” She rested her head against her arms and, shooting Obi-Wan and Anakin a rather pitiful look, she added, “With Padmé ill and all—”

“She’s ill?” Anakin asked, alarmed.

“Only a bit,” Ahsoka amended. “Which is why she’s _here_ —if you were _listening_ —”

Looking at his friend, Obi-Wan had the strong suspicion that Anakin had stopped actually listening after Ahsoka said Padmé Amidala’s name. He was staring up at the stairs, not quite looking at Ahsoka until she made her way down another step. That elicited a small creak from the stair, and then Anakin seemed to wake from whatever stupor he was in.

Anakin blinked. “And you didn’t call—”

“She’s only a _little_ ill,” Ahsoka said. “We don’t need to call a doctor all the way here for that. _But_ ,” she added hastily at Anakin’s sharp look, “we’ll call one if she’s not any better later—she’s already sent a letter out to her family, though, to tell them not to worry, so I think she’ll be—”

“Just fine,” Obi-Wan finished for Ahsoka, and looking at Anakin, he added, “she’ll be _fine_. Now you…” He gestured. “It’s late. Tomorrow morning, you can check on how our guest’s faring—but I doubt you’ll be doing much good if you interrupt her now.”

Anakin sighed. He looked ready to protest, but then, looking at Obi-Wan again, he nodded once.

With that, he started up the stairs. Ahsoka ducked to the side, giving Anakin a semi-apologetic smile as he made his way to the second floor. After he had gone out of earshot, Ahsoka turned to Obi-Wan. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Obi-Wan replied. He started towards the stairs. “But really—you seem _quite_ pleased for our poor guest.”

“Well,” Ahsoka said loftily, following Obi-Wan, “ _you_ saw them at the ball the other night, didn’t you? Anakin practically only danced with _her_.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly. “I did notice.”

“ _And_ ,” Ahsoka said, “Miss Amidala is _quite_ charming.”

“I’m sure.”

“She told me a little bit about her other sisters—you remember them, don’t you? From the other night?”

Obi-Wan paused, his hand setting down on the railing. He briefly remembered a certain set of blue eyes flashing up at him, a barely restrained smile, and a little curtsey that most certainly was not made out of politeness. “Vaguely.”

“Vaguely? It was _only_ the other night.”

“If you were expecting one particular answer, then why did you bother asking?” Obi-Wan walked up another few steps, slowing down to make sure that Ahsoka was keeping up with him. She was—she had grown tall enough to walk a little faster than him, he was sure.

“Well, I _expected_ that you would _give_ the one particular answer,” Ahsoka replied loftily.

“Did I disappoint you?”

“Sorely.” Ahsoka heaved a great sigh and, reaching the top of the stairs, she added, “Well, _in any case_ , Padmé told me a little more of her sisters. They’re not related by blood, see—she’s a ward, but they’re all rather fond of each other—at least, that’s what it seemed like to _me_ , and—”

“Up this late, Miss Tano?”

Both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka stopped short.

Sheev Palpatine stood before them on the opposite end of the hall. He was standing in the doorway of his own rooms, and though there were enough candles behind him to light the way, he still seemed mostly in shadow. Obi-Wan resisted a shudder. There was always something so ominous about Anakin’s great-uncle.

“It’s rather not ladylike for one to be up at this hour,” Palpatine said now, looking on at Ahsoka.

“I was just going to bed,” Ahsoka said, folding her hands behind herself. “Anakin and Obi-Wan just got back.”

“Yes, I can tell,” Palpatine said, his voice carrying from his rooms. “And where is Anakin?”

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka looked at each other briefly.

“He should be getting ready for bed as well,” Obi-Wan replied carefully. He wasn’t sure why he had to be careful—but that was how things always had been with Palpatine. “I may pass him by, if he’s still awake. Is there something you’d like to pass on to him?”

Palpatine smiled. “No,” he said. “I can tell him myself.” He paused, turning around in the doorway. “Best sleep. It has been a…rather tiresome day.” With that, he closed the door, leaving Ahsoka and Obi-Wan alone in the silent and darkened hallway.

“A _rather tiresome day_ ,” Ahsoka whispered. “He’s only saying that because he disliked Padmé’s company.”

Obi-Wan cast a sidelong glance at Ahsoka. “He disliked her company?”

“He didn’t _say_ anything to her,” Ahsoka said. “He seemed disappointed when he realized she would be staying with us.” She shook her head, wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “I wish he wasn’t here with us. This holiday would be so much better off.”

Obi-Wan agreed, though he wouldn’t admit it aloud—not right now, anyways. Even though Ahsoka and he were far enough away from Palpatine’s door, Obi-Wan still couldn’t quite trust himself to voice anything. He brought a quick finger to his lips to signal for Ahsoka to quiet, as well.

Ahsoka only shook her head. “Well,” she said, “best be off, before he comes out to scold again.” Pitching her voice lower, she mimicked, “ _It isn’t ladylike for one to be up at this hour._ ”

Obi-Wan started to smile, but when Ahsoka looked at him, he quickly schooled his expression into one of neutrality. That didn’t seem to fool the young girl, though—she started to smile a little, and tipping her head to Obi-Wan. “Good night.”

“Good night, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said. “Sleep well.”

With another little nod, Ahsoka departed—and Obi-Wan turned for his own room. He slipped out of his clothes, settled into bed. The house was quiet now, and Obi-Wan couldn’t hear anything outside save for the occasional call of an owl.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

_She told me of her sisters—you remember them, don’t you?_

In truth, Obi-Wan remembered the details of the past night a little too well. Hovering at the side of the hall, watching the others dance around him, and then looking to find the one who he later discovered was named Satine Kryze. Satine Kryze, who apparently just so happened to be Padmé Amidala’s sister. Padmé Amidala, the woman whom Anakin had apparently been quite taken to.

Obi-Wan rolled over on his side, trying to block out the rest of the memories of the night, but now, they came all a bit too quickly: Satine, laughing—albeit a little awkwardly—at something that mother of hers had mentioned. And then the little smile she had given Obi-Wan later, when he had asked that foolish question: _then what would you encourage? to encourage affection?_

He hadn’t known _why_ he had asked that blasted question. He might have just drunk a little too much that night. Or perhaps he was just tired, or perhaps he was starting to grow curious of the young woman who spent most of the night dancing with her sister and laughing with other acquaintances.

And he very distinctly remembered her seemingly innocent smile right before she said, _dancing_ — _even if one’s partner is barely tolerable_.

Obi-Wan sighed, rolling over on his back. So a blunder on his part, perhaps. _Perhaps_.

But he might not actually see—

There wouldn’t be any more balls, at least. He wouldn’t attend any more of these balls, and then he won’t make the same mistake of uttering words that apparently could be overheard by people he had even the _slightest_ bit of—

Well now, that was just ridiculous.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

He couldn’t shake the strange feeling that there would be more to come in the next few days.

\--

Anakin didn’t come down for breakfast, which was unusual because he was almost always ravenous in the mornings. Obi-Wan caught Ahsoka across the table, who subtly shifted her head out of the dining room, lifted her eyes up to the ceiling.

Obi-Wan frowned, and only after a moment did he realize that _ah, yes, it was morning_ , and there was a very likely chance that Anakin may or may not actually be checking on how their guest was faring. Obi-Wan glanced down to the table to where Palpatine was reading from the newspaper, his eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed at the print. Obi-Wan suspected it had nothing to do with the man’s actual eyesight.

He turned back to his breakfast.

“Did you—”

“I saw her in the morning,” Ahsoka said. “It’s but a light fever—she’ll be better soon.”

“And her family knows for certain?”

“Absolutely,” Ahsoka replied.

“I’m sure they’re excited to have their daughter in a house such as this one,” Palpatine murmured from his seat. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both looked to him. The man was still reading the newspaper, and only when the silence stretched for a moment longer did he look up to the two of them. He smiled briefly. “Ah—did I say something wrong?”

Before either Obi-Wan or Ahsoka could respond (or for Obi-Wan, think of a response—and for Ahsoka, respond with something that she may very well regret later), there was a sudden knock at the door. A moment later, one of the servants arrived, bobbing his head to the three.

“A Miss Satine Kryze,” the servant said stiffly.

Obi-Wan blinked. Out of all—

A moment later, the servant walked away, and then there were footsteps. Surprisingly sure sounding footsteps, then the rustle of cloth, and a moment later, Obi-Wan found himself looking at Satine Kryze’s flushed face. She was still breathing a little hard, Obi-Wan noticed, but otherwise, she looked steadily on to the breakfasting company.

Obi-Wan remembered a quick look towards her in the hall, even quicker words.

A moment of silence passed.

Obi-Wan stood sharply, partially wincing at the irritating sound of the chair scraping backwards against the floor. He noticed Ahsoka looking up to him, but he didn’t dare look back, not even as he bowed his head.

When he lifted his head back up, Satine wasn’t quite looking at him. Or perhaps she had—just a quick little glance in his direction, and then she was looking straight ahead once more. “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” she said, and her voice was just as it had been the other night—steady, perhaps just a bit wary. “I’ve only come to see my sister. I would have written ahead if I could.”

“We don’t mind,” Ahsoka said before anyone could say anything. “Not one bit.”

Satine smiled, this one a little warmer than the one that she had given Obi-Wan. (Although a small part of him supposed that he might have deserved that.) She looked once more to them all, and, in that same steady voice, she asked, “Where can I see my—”

“She’s upstairs,” Obi-Wan said, and he stopped. The words had come out a tad faster than he would have liked.

Satine looked at him, one eyebrow arching just the slightest.

Another moment passed.

“Thank you,” Satine said at last. She curtsied once, and Obi-Wan remembered the other curtsey that she had given the night they met—this one wasn’t quite as sarcastic, but still—he noticed that she tossed him only another strange look before leaving the room.

It was another moment before someone cleared a throat.

Obi-Wan turned to find both Palpatine and Ahsoka looking at him oddly.

“Feeling particularly chivalrous today, are we?” Palpatine murmured, picking up his newspaper again.

Obi-Wan blinked. He looked at Ahsoka for answers, who just sipped at her tea.

He realized he was still standing.

Obi-Wan abruptly sat back down, and he took to paying attention to whatever was on his plate.

\--

After breakfast, Obi-Wan managed to slip away in case any conversation with Palpatine might arise. He watched Ahsoka do the same—she mumbled something about some stitching that she might need to get done, which Obi-Wan knew was utter nonsense, because Ahsoka was not the type to sit around and stitch or embroider, but still, he supposed there was something to be said for how Palpatine didn’t at all seem fazed by the weak excuse.

Obi-Wan walked up the stairs, intent on finding one of his books. Or not his books, he realized, and he cursed at himself quietly, because already, a few days in the country, and all his other worries were indeed starting to slip away.

Letters. He had to resume those letters of his…his chest tightened a little at the thought, just thinking about what awaited him. No matter— _someone_ had to complete all these tasks, and he was the only one who could carry that burden, even if Anakin and Ahsoka both protested and prodded and pushed.

He was starting for his room when he heard some quiet murmurs from one of the doors.

Obi-Wan paused, glanced to the door once. It lay partially open—just by the slightest crack, just enough that when Obi-Wan turned, he caught a flash of yellow hair, some blankets.

“I feel _terrible_ ,” said a soft voice. Padmé, Obi-Wan guessed. “I’ve been here all night…”

“Well, you _will_ get better,” replied another voice. Satine. “Father’s quite cross with Mother, if that makes you feel any better…”

A weak laugh, one that was followed by a light cough.

“Oh…” Obi-Wan noticed Satine crane forward, rest a hand on her sister’s arm. “I’m at least here now. I’ll be here for a little while, just enough to make sure that we both get on home.”

“And the others—”

“I don’t think they mind,” Satine said. “Mr. Skywalker and Miss Tano at least seemed rather fine with the proposal—”

_Anakin had spoken with her?_

“And what of Mr. Kenobi?” Padmé’s voice was quiet, but Obi-Wan couldn’t miss the sound of his own name. He glanced once more at the door, and he saw Satine duck her head. For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered what she would say of him—but then he remembered the other night, and he realized that perhaps there would be nothing good.

He decided he didn’t quite need that for the day.

Obi-Wan quickly walked away from the door.

\--

“We’ll be most glad of you to stay during your sister’s recovery,” Anakin was telling Satine now. Obi-Wan remained unmoving at the desk, looking but not reading at the words on the page. He was distantly aware of Anakin and Satine sitting on the couch behind him, Ahsoka circling about like a lost bird.

“Thank you,” Satine replied warmly. “We most appreciate the gesture. And thank you—for taking care of my sister so diligently. She is in far better comfort here than she would be at home.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Anakin replied quickly. And then, with an embarrassed laugh, he said, “I mean—it’s not a pleasure that she’s _ill_ , but it’s a pleasure that she’s—”

Obi-Wan caught Ahsoka circling around him now, and the two just exchanged a quick little shake of their heads before returning to their own tasks as Anakin fumbled for the rest of his sentence.

“I mean that it’s a pleasure that she’s _here_ …being—” The rest was lost with another awkward laugh. When Obi-Wan dared glance backward, he found that his friend’s face was rather flushed, his face turned downward.

Satine, on the other hand, only gave him a slightly amused look. (Or what Obi-Wan guessed was supposed to be an amused look. Slightly upturned eyebrows, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her face wasn’t quite as hard this time around.)

“I know,” Satine said. “Thank you either way.”

Anakin grinned, and Obi-Wan turned back around to his letters.

“Yes, it’ll be most exciting that you’ll be staying with us for a little while,” Ahsoka said. “It’s been a while since we’ve had any other guests on these trips beside our dreadful uncle.”

“He’s not dreadful,” Anakin said automatically.

“No, he really rather is,” Ahsoka said in a stage whisper. “He speaks of nothing but his horrid politics.” Obi-Wan heard light footsteps and then Ahsoka’s conspiratorial, “But we’ll have some good fun around here. Don’t you agree, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan paused. He looked backwards again, this time to find Ahsoka’s arm hooked around Satine’s. To Satine’s credit, she just looked a little bewildered—but again, not quite hard or cool.

At least, not for the time being—Obi-Wan and Satine looked at each other, and Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw some of that coolness return again.

“I’m sure you two ladies will have your fun,” Obi-Wan replied. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

“He wishes us the best of luck,” Ahsoka repeated. “Well, that’s practically a blessing.”

“Is it now,” Satine mused, and Obi-Wan ducked his head back down to his letters.

“Oh, yes,” Ahsoka was saying. “There’s plenty we can do—have you seen the library? Really, the library’s wonderful, if you prefer reading…and we do have some gardens around here, if you’d like to walk around those…I think we all know a good handful, although Obi-Wan’s the only one out of all of us who can remember the names of them all…perhaps he’ll join us?”

Obi-Wan stiffened. This time, he didn’t bother turning around.

“I’m sure you two will do a fine job entertaining yourselves,” he said, looking down at whatever it was he was writing.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Anakin said from the side.

A quiet laugh—not from Ahsoka or Anakin, Obi-Wan realized.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, so he resumed to his letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

“And this is the library,” Miss Tano said, opening the wooden doors. For a moment, Satine just had to blink at the sudden brightness—and then she realized that the brightness was mostly due to the glass frames on the walls. Carefully pinned butterflies, a few pressed leaves and flowers hid underneath those glass panels, but beyond that—books. Many, many books, practically stuffing the shelves in the room.

“It’s not quite as big as the one that Mr. Kenobi has back home,” Miss Tano said wistfully, stepping into the library, “but my brother took care to move at least some of his own books here. And I think he might have taken some from Mr. Kenobi’s too, just because we might drag him along here more often.”

Satine briefly tried to imagine Mr. Kenobi and herself becoming summer neighbors. She shuddered, trying to rid herself of that thought.

But when Miss Tano looked at her, Satine managed a quick smile. “So your brother enjoys reading, Miss Tano?”

“Please call me Ahsoka,” the young woman said. “Only strangers call me Miss Tano, and I would like to think that we aren’t strangers now.” And with that, she gave Satine such a particular smile that Satine couldn’t help returning one of her own.

“Very well, then, Ahsoka,” Satine said. “Does your brother enjoy reading? Or yourself?”

“Probably not as much as our uncle would like, in my brother’s case,” Ahsoka said lightly. She walked down the shelves, leaning forward only every once in a while, to read a title. “He’s always been much more inclined to fixing things. Works with his hands.” She gave Satine a sidelong look. “Does your sister read?”

Satine paused, trying to assess Ahsoka. She had heard stories of fiendish young ladies who were protective of their families—and she supposed that she might do the same, had she been in possession of a wealthy brother, but she couldn’t find any of that malice in the eyes of the young woman before her. If anything, Miss Tano seemed almost just as hopeful as Satine in making some kind of arrangement.

“She does,” Satine replied. “Although she enjoys her time outside every now and again.”

“Well, of course,” Ahsoka said, gesturing to the windows—beyond, there was nothing but the green fields, the occasional tree. “With spaces like these, you must have all the room to explore.” Ahsoka’s expression shuttered a bit once at that, but as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Before Satine could try to make any more sense out of it, she walked over to a shelf and plucked out a thin volume. She passed it between her hands, and with a thoughtful little nod, handed it over to Satine.

Satine took it with a quizzical smile. “I don’t think my sister would have much time to read,” she said apologetically.

“Oh, of course not,” Ahsoka said. “But that was for you.”

“Ah—” Satine glanced down at the book and then back up again at Ahsoka. “Well, in that case, I’ll try my best to complete it.”

“There’s no rush,” Ahsoka said, walking down the rest of the shelves. She glanced backwards to Satine and smiled in a way that made her wonder if the girl was hiding something. “Do let me know what you think of it later.”

Satine nodded, holding the book to her chest. “You have my word.”

Ahsoka’s face brightened. “Good,” she said. Walking back to Satine, she said, “Now, I _have_ to give you the rest of the house tour—no one else will be bothered to do it except me, I believe. And you must simply have to see to the other rooms before dinnertime…”

\--

“You really didn’t have to come,” Padmé said as Satine brushed her sister’s hair. She was relieved to find that Padmé’s complexion had improved since this morning, when Satine had first arrived to the house. She looked more tired than anything else, but Satine supposed she could make do with that. At the very least, Padmé was able to at least come down to the dining room to have dinner with the others, which Satine was _most_ glad about, because she could barely tolerate the idea of sitting through dinner by herself.

She supposed that would make her sound like a rude guest—after all, she had come quite abruptly to the house, without so much as a letter to the Skywalker household, but then again, Satine would have felt similarly should Padmé and herself been back home. Conversation was always so very long and dreadful when Satine didn’t have a companion to trade annoyed or amused glances with.

“Of course I had to come,” Satine said. She looked down at Padmé. “Would you like a braid or something more…elaborate?” She rested her chin on Padmé’s shoulder, adding delicately, “Particularly if you would like to impress a particular suitor—”

“ _Satine_ —” Padmé batted Satine away, a flush rising to her cheeks. “You mustn’t tease like that once we’re at dinner.”

“So the more elaborate hair, then?” Satine asked. “I’m afraid it won’t be as neat as it would be if you were the one—”

“No, just the braid,” Padmé interrupted. “I don’t want them to think that I’m—”

“Attempting to seduce the—”

“ _Satine_ ,” Padmé repeated, brushing Satine away. “There will be _no_ seducing.” She turned abruptly, coughed into the crook of her arm. When Satine passed her a glass of water, Padmé looked up with a halfhearted smile. “I don’t think I could seduce a _rock_ if I tried to, anyways.”

“Well, we’re lucky that Mr. Skywalker isn’t a rock, then, aren’t we?”

This time, when Padmé aimed to hit her, Satine leapt off the bed. She skittered to the other side of the room as her sister followed, and in almost no time at all, Padmé had caught up to her. They danced about, just barely containing their laughter as Satine ducked to one side, then the other as Padmé attempted to keep up. The activity almost made Satine wish that Bo-Katan were there with them—the youngest sister would most certainly have enjoyed the most out of this, and Satine was a little sorry that she had to leave Bo-Katan behind with their parents. But she supposed that Bo-Katan would not have been one to sit through stifling dinners.

“Alright, alright,” Satine said, sitting back down on the bed. “No more running. I’ll do your hair.”

“Thank you,” Padmé said, sitting down. Her cheeks were pinker now, and she breathed hard, but Satine supposed that even this temporary exercise was probably good for the two of them. As Satine brushed through her hair, Padmé asked suddenly, “And what about conversation with Mr. Kenobi? He’ll be at dinner too, won’t he?”

Ah, Mr. Kenobi. Satine briefly remembered her encounter with him in the dining room. He had interrupted her.

“I suppose he will,” Satine said loftily, starting the braid. “Although do not worry, sister—I will try my best not to insult his miserable little state.”

“Do you really think he’s miserable?” Padmé asked, turning around to Satine.

“Well, he must be,” Satine replied. “You should have seen him before.” She circled her finger so Padmé could turn around again; she did. Taking up the rest of Padmé’s curls, Satine added, “He just stood there, looking at me as though I was something that came in with the wind. Not a comfortable feeling, mind you.” She did the last of the braid and, satisfied with her work, she leaned back a little. “But I assure you, I will be content in ignoring whatever snide remarks he may throw my way.”

“You’re too patient.”

“I truly am,” Satine said. She pushed herself off the bed. “And now, my dear Padmé, shall we get you dressed?”

“We shall,” Padmé replied with false graciousness. The two exchanged a smile and, as they got to changing out of their clothes, she asked in a quieter voice, “You don’t think anything particularly…uncomfortable will happen at dinner tonight though, do you?”

“I hardly think so,” Satine responded. “Why? Do you think so?”

Padmé lifted her shoulders. “No, I suppose not.”

\--

Satine abruptly discovered that things could, in fact, become dreadfully uncomfortable dreadfully fast. And things hadn’t started out that way: when Padmé and Satine walked into the dining room, they found initially only Ahsoka and her brother.

“Good evening, ladies,” Mr. Skywalker said, nodding to Satine and Padmé. “Had a nice day?”

“Yes, thank you,” Padmé replied. “I feel as though I’ve gotten so much better already.”

The two exchanged a smile that Satine didn’t miss. And apparently, neither did Ahsoka, for she looked to Satine with a smile of her own.

“Well, then, Padmé,” Ahsoka said now, “I hope you don’t mind sitting across from me—next to my brother? I would so very much like to talk to you, but I’m afraid dinner conversation can only get so awkward if I’m sitting directly next to you, do you understand?”

“Of course,” Padmé replied as Mr. Skywalker very deliberately looked to one of the windows.

“Excellent,” Ahsoka said, her eyes lighting up. “Well, then, in that case, Satine, if you would just sit beside me…”

Satine nodded. She had only just reached her chair next to Ahsoka when the doors opened again, this time to bring in the last two members of the household: Mr. Palpatine as well as Mr. Kenobi. They appeared to have been immersed in some conversation that Satine could not quite hear—but she did catch Mr. Kenobi’s rather tight expression before they reached the table.

“Good, you two are here,” Mr. Skywalker said cheerfully. “We were wondering what was taking so long.”

“Patience, my boy,” Mr. Palpatine said, patting his hand once on his nephew’s shoulder before reaching his seat. Head of the table, Satine noted—right between Mr. Skywalker and Ahsoka, although Satine additionally noted that Ahsoka didn’t seem too keen on that.

But before Satine could quite figure out the case for that, Ahsoka leaned over to where Mr. Kenobi was still hovering near the table and asked, “Would you mind sitting on our side, Obi-Wan? We could so use your half of the conversation.”

Satine dared not look in Mr. Kenobi’s direction as he replied, “Surely, you don’t—”

“I most certainly mean,” Ahsoka interrupted, “that you would be much better off sitting on our side.”

Satine drew in a slow, shallow breath and lifted her eyes to meet Padmé’s across the table. Her sister gave her a somewhat sympathetic look but offered no protest. Satine shook her head slightly, but after a moment, she forced herself to turn to Mr. Kenobi and braced on a smile. “I assure you I’ll be as polite as I can be, Mr. Kenobi, if that is your concern.”

Mr. Kenobi, to his credit, just looked at Satine. “That is not my concern.”

“Then whatever seems to be the problem?” Satine asked.

Before Mr. Kenobi could respond, Mr. Skywalker cut in, “ _Please_ just sit down, Obi-Wan—there are some of us who _are_ waiting for dinner, you know.”

“Yes, Anakin,” Mr. Kenobi said wearily. He looked once at him, then at Satine, and this time, Satine pointedly looked away. She didn’t need to know just how mutual their discomfort was with one another, thank you very much. Still, as Mr. Palpatine sat down, Satine was still surprised to find hands tugging her chair out for her.

Satine glanced once at Mr. Kenobi, but he was already doing the same for Ahsoka.

He glanced her way only once more, and then the two sat down.

And so dinner began: mostly with quiet courses at first, and for just a moment, the only actual sounds were clinking silverware and quiet sips from their glasses before Ahsoka asked, “Did you start that book that I gave you, Satine?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Satine replied. “Thank you for lending it to me, though—I’ll be sure to start it tomorrow.”

“I’m sure,” Ahsoka said. Still brightly, she added, “Padmé—I have some books if you’d like to borrow too, you know. There’s so _many_ , and given the fact that we’ll be here for _quite_ some time, I’m sure there’ll be no problem in exchanging books at all.”

“That’s a kind offer,” Padmé replied, smiling. “I’d enjoy that, thank you very much.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka said cheerfully. She opened her mouth to say something else, and Satine would have very much liked to know what the continuation of this conversation would have been had Mr. Palpatine not cleared his throat.

“Yes, we are very glad to have found new…” Mr. Palpatine’s voice drifted for a moment before he smiled in a way that reminded Satine briefly of a toad. Or a frog. She couldn’t quite remember the difference. “Friends.”

“The feeling is—” Satine began, but Mr. Palpatine was still speaking.

“Tell me,” he said, “is it just the two of you in the family?”

“There’s another of us,” Padmé replied. “A younger sister. She’s not here with us, but she’s just a little younger than myself.” She glanced around the table. “She was at the dance, if any of you might have seen her…”

“She didn’t dance,” Satine offered.

At that, Mr. Skywalker and Ahsoka’s faces cleared up. They nodded knowingly, while Mr. Kenobi just drank from his glass.

“You’ll be sure to see her at other functions, though,” Padmé said with a somewhat embarrassed smile. “She’s just a bit shy.”

“By shy, she truly means just a bit selective,” Satine added, smiling a little. “A true independent.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Ahsoka said cheerfully.

“Yes,” Mr. Palpatine said, although he didn’t sound like he agreed at all. “And your parents? Have they lived here for long?”

There was a pause. Padmé and Satine glanced at each other once, and this time, Padmé lifted her brows. Satine turned to Mr. Palpatine, and suddenly, that wary feeling that she had considered when assessing Ahsoka returned. Only at least with Ahsoka, that feeling had faded away instantly. Looking at Palpatine now, Satine found that she couldn’t quite as easily dismiss her own wariness towards this older man.

“Well,” Satine began, but before she could continue, Mr. Skywalker interrupted her.

“I remember your mother,” he said, looking at Padmé. “She was a wonderful character.”

This time, it was Satine’s turn to drink from her glass as Padmé flushed. “Thank you,” she said, and Satine knew that they were both trying very, very hard not to look at each other as they both undoubtedly recalled their mother’s pinked cheeks and clumsy remarks. But Mr. Skywalker’s remarks didn’t seem to be sarcastic or cold either, so Satine supposed that was a good thing, and she was relieved that Padmé knew as much too. “That’s very kind.”

“Yes,” Mr. Palpatine said. “Anakin is nothing but goodhearted.” He smiled again, this time directly at Padmé. “Sometimes to a fault.”

Another pause.

“Well, that’s certainly a wonderful thing to have fault in,” Satine said at last. She looked around the table. “I could think of a handful of traits that most gentlemen would more commonly fall victim to, and good-heartedness certainly fails to be included in that regard.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ahsoka chimed in. “There’s always the gamblers and the scoundrels and the pirates…”

“I don’t think pirates exist in everyday society, my dear,” Mr. Palpatine said.

“If the Queen once hired pirates to do her bidding, then I certainly think they _do_ have the chance to be in everyday society,” Ahsoka replied without so much as a pause. “What else is there to find fault in…”

“A mouth disproportionate to the rest of the body,” Satine mused. “That could be added to our list of faults.”

Ahsoka giggled. “Do elaborate, Miss Kryze.”

“Well,” Satine said, sitting up (and noting Padmé’s little smile), “it really is quite simple—men with a mouth larger than the rest of their body are so very easy to spot in crowds. They tend to be the louder ones—you see, the ones who make bold claims of daring adventures with women and fame and wealth, all of which conveniently seem to disappear once asked for proper evidence.”

“And I trust you’ve met a good many deal of them?” Ahsoka asked.

“Far too many, I’m afraid,” Satine replied. “Far, far too many. I pray that no one ever meets such a man ever.” She inspected her glass and looked at Mr. Palpatine with a light smile. “So I assure you, Mr. Palpatine, your nephew’s fault solely lying in his heart is one that I applaud him for.” She lifted her glass in Mr. Skywalker’s direction. Mr. Skywalker, in turn, lifted the glass back with a twinkle in his eye.

With that satisfaction, the dinner resumed. Satine was glad of it too, especially as Padmé and Mr. Skywalker took to conversing quietly amongst themselves—meanwhile, Satine took most of her time in noting the amount of windows and candles in the room as the minutes ticked by. The dinner itself was delicious—it was clear that the household had a better cook, and so she tried to enjoy that much, even though that proved to be difficult as well, especially with the feeling of Mr. Palpatine’s eyes skirting between Padmé and herself.

“Flattering words,” Mr. Kenobi said quietly to her later.

Satine looked to where Mr. Kenobi sat beside her. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Mr. Kenobi replied, cutting at a bit of food on his plate, “flattering words. Used effectively to turn the conversation away, it would appear.”

Satine looked on for another few seconds before she said, “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

Mr. Kenobi looked up at her. The room had darkened considerably since they had started dinner, but in this light, his eyes were still that odd shade of blue-grey and, Satine realized from her position next to him, a little green. “I’m sure you do not,” he replied.

“Do you mean to tease me, Mr. Kenobi?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Kenobi replied, looking down at his plate. “I only mean to observe.”

“Well,” Satine responded, looking at her own plate, “do keep in mind what I said about gentlemen with a mouth disproportionate to the rest of themselves.”

The answering silence told her that she had won this round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

There were many things that Obi-Wan was starting to regret about this trip, and one of them included letting Anakin know that he was going to take to walking in the mornings. He hadn’t had much reason to think that this information would be used against him later, in part because Anakin was well-aware of his morning habits even when they were living in the city. Only of course, back there, Obi-Wan’s walks were shorter and tended to take place earlier in the morning, when there were fewer people awake.

But now, with the expanse of land about them, Obi-Wan had at least the liberty to not wake before the sun. That _did_ mean that he woke only a little earlier than Anakin—but now, when Obi-Wan reached the door, he found that Anakin was, in fact, awake today.

Along with multiple other persons.

“Good morning,” Anakin said cheerfully, nodding with his usual boyishness. “I thought that since Miss Amidala’s doing so much better, we would all walk together.”

Obi-Wan paused. He surveyed the company gathered: Padmé Amidala, looking a mixture of embarrassed and apologetic. Ahsoka, looking a mixture of amused and absolutely innocent. And Satine Kryze, who looked at him for just a moment before looking past.

Obi-Wan found that he wasn’t quite surprised.

“Then I wish you well on your walk,” Obi-Wan said. He tilted his head, looked to Anakin. “And you’re sure you won’t get lost?”

“Of course I won’t,” Anakin replied. “Because you’ll be coming with us.”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin.

“Mr. Skywalker,” he said after a moment, “might I speak to you for a moment?”

“ _Mr. Skywalker_ ,” Anakin repeated. “Might I ask why the sudden formalities first?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “Now, please.”

Anakin grimaced, but he looked to Padmé and the others—mostly to Padmé. “I will be back in just a few moments,” he said. There were exchanged smiles, and then Anakin turned back around to Obi-Wan.

As soon as he had, Obi-Wan guided Anakin out of the parlor and into the drawing room. Obi-Wan had just closed the door behind themselves when Anakin asked, “What are you thinking?”

“I was going to ask the same of you,” Obi-Wan replied, turning around to Anakin. “I don’t mean to insult you—”

“You most certainly do,” Anakin muttered.

“But I’d rather spend my mornings alone,” Obi-Wan finished, ignoring Anakin’s comment.

“It’s only for one morning,” Anakin replied. He took hold of the door handle and looked at Obi-Wan. “ _Only_ for one morning. And you know…” He grimaced, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “I would rather explain that there were at least multiple people rather than just Miss Amidala and myself.”

Obi-Wan glanced up at the ceiling and sighed. He could see why Anakin would want to have other people around him. He hadn’t missed Palpatine’s sly comments and questions to Satine or Padmé the night before, nor had he missed the distasteful look Anakin’s uncle had given the two young women. Obi-Wan supposed he should be glad that his friend had at least the sense to catch that much of his uncle’s disproval, but all the same…

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. His friend _was_ wealthy, that much was true. And what was additionally true was that while his friend _was_ intelligent—at least, more intelligent than most gave him credit for (and Obi-Wan would be the first to admit such, no matter how it might damage his own pride), he was also just the slightest naïve.

Which was why, Obi-Wan realized, he too couldn’t help but want to approach the situation with Padmé Amidala as cautiously as caution would allow it.

“Only for one morning,” Obi-Wan repeated.

“Yes,” Anakin replied. “Miss Amidala told me that she wrote to her family—she will be returning in just a day.”

Obi-Wan wondered briefly how many more conversations his friend must have had with Miss Amidala. He had left dinner relatively early last night—but then again, Ahsoka and Satine must have been present for whatever conversations occurred between Anakin and Padmé.

“Now will you please accompany us?” Anakin asked. “If it’s only for one day…”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin once more. His friend looked at him with such hopefulness that Obi-Wan was unsure whether he wanted to laugh or simply shake his head. Both, he realized, would have been a symbol of surrender either way, as was their habit. So, with a quiet sigh, Obi-Wan replied, “Yes, Anakin. Just for today.”

Anakin beamed. “Thank you,” he said. He grasped Obi-Wan’s shoulder briefly and then, opening the door, he added, “I think you’d actually like the company, you know. Walking by yourself could be lonely.”

“Or perhaps it’s satisfying,” Obi-Wan replied. “Perhaps it’s a worthy exercise in getting away from particularly loud companions.”

“Tragic,” Anakin said dismissively. “I wouldn’t happen to know any of these particularly loud companions, would I?”

Obi-Wan didn’t deign giving a response. He just shook his head as they neared the rest of the company. Obi-Wan noticed that the three young women gathered in the parlor seemed to have been having quite the discussion themselves—although now they all looked to Obi-Wan and Anakin with identical expressions of neutrality.

“Well?” Anakin asked, smiling. “Shall we?”

\--

As Obi-Wan had suspected, Padmé did, in fact, walk with Anakin first. The two kept a respectable distance from one another, but every now and then, Obi-Wan would notice his friend giving Padmé a shy, boyish smile that she would return in her own sweetly innocent manner. Obi-Wan thought again of Palpatine’s comments and questions, and he couldn’t quite match them to the look on the young woman’s face, but all the same…he kept himself at enough of a distance to not hear the exact words exchanged, but to at least observe her actions.

The matter at hand, Obi-Wan realized presently, was that he was not yet quite sure how to assess Padmé Amidala. She certainly appeared to be a kind figure, one who smiled at Anakin when he joked, and one who certainly seemed to be fond of her sister and her family, but Obi-Wan noticed the way his friend’s eyes seemed to hopelessly, haplessly follow her movements, and he couldn’t quite imagine her eyes doing the same.

“They look lovely, don’t they?”

Obi-Wan looked to Ahsoka, who was twirling a weed between her fingertips. She glanced up at Obi-Wan with a sly smile of her own.

“I suppose you’re rather proud of yourself,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “You must think this is all your doing.”

“Why, of course,” Ahsoka replied casually. “I am learning how to become quite a good hostess. And allowing Padmé Amidala to stay with us was quite the fitting gesture of a hostess such as myself, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You are less a hostess and more so a matchmaker,” Obi-Wan replied, plucking the weed out of Ahsoka’s fingertips.

“Well, how else am I to have fun?” Ahsoka asked, plucking the weed back. She looked at Obi-Wan. “And oh, besides— _do_ look at them, they seem to make each other rather happy, don’t you think so?”

“They have known each other but for a few days,” Obi-Wan replied, glancing at Anakin and Padmé. “You will have to forgive me for being hesitant to measure their happiness accordingly.”

Although he had to agree that the two looked happy. Anakin said something that made Padmé laugh.

“Well,” Ahsoka sniffed. “You most certainly aren’t fun.” And then, standing on the tips of her toes, she called, “Isn’t that right, Satine?”

Before Obi-Wan could scold Ahsoka into lowering her voice, Satine turned around from where she had been walking a few feet in front of the two. She had her arms lightly crossed about her chest the whole time, and she hadn’t done more than observe the other shrubs around their walking path, but when she looked at Obi-Wan, he was surprised to find that her eyes were more alert than he had expected.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to repeat that for me,” Satine said. “What are we teasing Mr. Kenobi for now?”

Before Ahsoka could respond, Obi-Wan managed to pinch the young girl’s elbow. When Ahsoka looked up at him, Obi-Wan just barely, just slightly shook his head. He would rather not the sister of Padmé Amidala know that the two were discussing the relationship between their families and friends.

Ahsoka, thankfully, seemed to understand Obi-Wan’s point, because she replied, “We were teasing him for his general lack of knowing how to keep time.” She looked to Obi-Wan with such a convincing smile that Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps the child had been attending too many theaters. “He’s always a bit late, you see. Always so terribly slow in keeping up to date with certain things.”

“Really,” Satine replied. She had slowed her step just the slightest, enough for Ahsoka and Obi-Wan to catch up with her easily. “What a shame, for keeping time is seen as one of society’s most admirable traits.”

Obi-Wan found that he couldn’t quite help himself. “I could think of other traits that are more so,” he said.

“I don’t doubt it,” Satine replied. 

“See?” Ahsoka said pointedly.

Obi-Wan ignored the girl’s jibe. “And what of time-keeping so admirable?”

“Well,” Satine replied, “one would never get things done should they arrive late to events.” She looked at Obi-Wan once. A casual, throwaway glance that Obi-Wan imagined that a young woman such as herself must have perfected over the years. “Timing is meant to be an important element in most things.”

“And you tend to keep time yourself?” Obi-Wan asked, turning his gaze forward. Padmé was pointing something out amongst the grasses. Anakin looked on with her.

“Oh dear,” Satine said. “I was under the impression we were meant to be teasing you, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Do you usually take pleasure in finding the faults of others?” Obi-Wan asked.

When Obi-Wan looked, he found that Satine was smiling just the slightest. “Of course not,” she replied. “Although I do like to laugh. Do you not?” She paused, turned to Obi-Wan so that they were looking at each other fully. She still wore a mildly pleasant look—still with that slight smile, bright and focused eyes. “Or are you too prideful in indulging on such occasions?”

“You assume too much,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Do I?” Satine asked.

“Lovely conversation,” Ahsoka said cheerfully. “I’ll be walking ahead now.”

And with that, the girl hurried forward, leaving Obi-Wan and Satine alone on the path. Obi-Wan watched Ahsoka leave, and then he turned to Satine. “I am not too prideful,” he said. “Although I find it difficult to forgive those who offend me.”

“And you’ve been offended before?”

“You have not?”

Satine smiled, though she didn’t reply.

“And my good opinion,” Obi-Wan added, picking up his pace, “once lost, is lost forever.”

“I suppose I cannot tease you about that,” Satine replied. She looked to Obi-Wan with a slight smile, although her eyes did not. “Such a shame, for like I said—I dearly love to laugh.”

Before Obi-Wan could respond—and he was thinking of a response, just how to correctly parse it out, laughter from up ahead brought both Satine and Obi-Wan’s attention forward.

Anakin and Padmé had turned around, and they were waving for Satine, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka to hurry over. They stood beneath a tree, and they waved their arms once again.

“There you are,” Obi-Wan said. “Your laughing companions.”

That said, he walked forward.

\--

“You certainly seem to be in a good mood,” Obi-Wan said later, once they were back in the house.

“Do I?” Anakin asked, sitting down in the armchair opposite Obi-Wan. “I could hardly tell.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, resumed his reading.

“And what about you?” Anakin asked.

“What of me?” Obi-Wan asked, turning a page.

“Your walk with Miss Kryze,” Anakin replied. Obi-Wan could hear the smile in his voice.

“Not as enjoyable as your own with Miss Amidala’s, I am sure,” Obi-Wan said. He didn’t bother looking up as he heard Anakin push himself away from the armchair. “And I am sure she will agree with me.”

“You are so sure,” Anakin replied, “but given that she didn’t leave right away, I’m assuming it couldn’t have been as unpleasant as you make it sound.”

“You assume as such based on the premise that everyone else must behave the way you do,” Obi-Wan said. He closed his book and pushed it to the table. “All to say that I do not believe Miss Kryze would leave so easily. She seemed content to learn about that nest you found.”

Because of course, what had caught Anakin and Padmé’s attention had been a bird nest. A small one, with what Ahsoka later identified to be robin eggs. Obi-Wan had been glad that Palpatine had not accompanied them on the walk, for he was certain that there would have been words exchanged should he had seen Ahsoka climb the tree in a most unladylike manner. Padmé and Satine hadn’t seemed to mind whatsoever, and of course, Anakin had all but encouraged it. Obi-Wan only looked back at the house every few moments to make sure that no stiff uncle would come storming out the doors.

“She did,” Anakin said now. “Although I think she was more so feigning interest for everyone else’s sake. Very much like someone else I know…”

“I was interested,” Obi-Wan replied, picking up his book again.

“So you say,” Anakin replied, sighing. He walked over to Obi-Wan’s side and looked down at the book. “Do you mean to read from that all day?”

“Do you mean to bother me all day?” Obi-Wan asked, turning a page. He realized that he hadn’t actually read the contents, and he turned the page back. He ignored the little laugh Anakin gave a moment later. “First the morning, and now this. There must be something to distract _you_ , Anakin.”

“There is plenty enough here to distract me,” Anakin replied. “But I’m concerned about why my friend’s version of a holiday would require him to read…” He bent over and plucked the book out of Obi-Wan’s hands. Obi-Wan didn’t bother taking it back. “Philosophy.”

Anakin flipped through the pages, one finger tucked to the place Obi-Wan had been reading from. Obi-Wan would have appreciated the gesture if he weren’t already weary of his friend’s behavior. “I didn’t think you cared much for these texts to begin with.”

“An exploration into something new,” Obi-Wan replied, reaching up with his hand.

“An exploration into something new,” Anakin said, dropping the book back into Obi-Wan’s hands. “And this is a worthy exploration to pursue, obviously.”

“Does everyone plan to tease me today?” Obi-Wan asked, flipping open the book again—this time perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “If so, I beg that you take on a new hobby.”

“What other hobbies are there?” Anakin asked. “I’m rather satisfied with this one.” After a moment, he asked, “But who else was teasing you?”

Obi-Wan flipped a page.

“Was there someone else?” Anakin asked. “Perhaps Miss Kryze?”

Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin. His friend was smiling at him.

“Absolutely not,” Obi-Wan replied, and he wasn’t quite sure why he lied then, but he had. He looked back down at the book and to his ever-growing frustration, he found that he had yet again lost where he had been reading. “You and your sister.”

“Is that so?” Anakin asked.

“It _is_ so—and,” Obi-Wan sighed, closing his book, “I’ve given up.”

“With our teasing?”

“With this book,” Obi-Wan said, standing up. He looked at Anakin. “Are you happy now?”

“Most certainly,” Anakin replied lazily. “Does this mean you might do something else with yourself?”

“This means that I’ll be changing books,” Obi-Wan replied, walking out of his room. He heard Anakin laugh behind him, but he stayed in the room as Obi-Wan walked down the stairs. He suspected that Anakin would eventually grow bored of even bothering him eventually—he just hoped that whatever habit Anakin picked up next would at least result in something that didn’t require in anything drastic.

A foolhardy hope.

Obi-Wan turned the book between his hands and frowned. Perhaps he should try to go for a walk once more, this time by himself. Or maybe he would convince Anakin to go riding with him—that might tire his friend out at least a little bit.

But first, to return this book to its proper place.

Obi-Wan walked into the small library, only to find that someone else was already there.

Satine was sitting near the window, her hands supporting what Obi-Wan realized with a start was one of his own books. For a moment, he was confused as to how Satine could have—but then he remembered that just the other night, Ahsoka had been saying something about lending a book. Obi-Wan hadn’t thought much of it at the moment, but now—

Satine looked at him once, and Obi-Wan realized that he had been watching for too long. But she didn’t seem particularly insulted—she just nodded her head at him. Before Obi-Wan could nod back, she was already returning to the book in her hands.

Obi-Wan paused in the doorway. He turned the book over in his hands again, took quiet steps inside. He found the shelf where the book belonged. Pushed it into place before looking once more to Satine.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Kenobi?” Satine asked, not looking up from her book.

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, looked to the bookcase. “No.”

“I see,” Satine murmured. She turned a page. “So you’ll let me resume my reading?”

“Are you enjoying what you’re reading?”

Obi-Wan turned the slightest to see Satine glance up at him. It was another quick glance, similar to the one given earlier on their walk. But then she looked back down and said, “It is.”

There weren’t any more words exchanged between the two of them.

Obi-Wan plucked out a book blindly from one of the other shelves and walked out of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

Satine woke up to familiarly loud voices coming from downstairs. For a moment, she thought that she was back home—because there was no one who created quite as much a ruckus in the mornings save her mother and her sister, but…

Satine bolted out of bed and rushed to the window, her eyes still watery with sleep. She pushed open the curtains and, to her disbelief, found that the family carriage was, in fact, parked outside the house.

“This early?” Satine muttered, pulling the curtains closed. She rushed to change into her dress and flung open the door, very nearly running straight into Mr. Kenobi, who was just walking past.

“Miss Kryze,” Mr. Kenobi said. He took a step back as Satine closed the door behind herself.

“Mr. Kenobi,” Satine said, all too aware of her harried state. Then again, she supposed that it wouldn’t have mattered if she looked rushed to begin with. She suspected that she could walk around the house wearing the most beautiful clothes without Mr. Kenobi paying any heed, not that she would care for his attention in the first place. Still, looking at Mr. Kenobi’s slightly lifted brow, Satine wished that he at least didn’t have to be right outside her door at this exact moment.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Padmé coming out of her room. Relieved for this, Satine turned to her sister. “I believe our mother—”

“Has arrived, yes,” Padmé said. She was already dressed, although she at least looked more dignified than Satine felt. Padmé smiled a little, making her way to the stairs. “I thought I heard her.”

“Who would not?” Satine murmured, just as another laugh sounded from downstairs. To her relief, this one had to belong to someone other than her mother—and Bo-Katan would never laugh in a place like this, so Satine could only assume it was Ahsoka. Satine was glad at least of that much—she didn’t like the idea of her mother and her sister having to speak to Mr. Palpatine by themselves.

Another laugh—this one most certainly belong to Satine and Padmé’s mother, judging by the sheer volume—brought everyone’s attention down the stairs.

“That would be our signal,” Satine noted. Without bothering to dawdle any further, she walked past Mr. Kenobi and took her sister’s hand. “Quickly, before our dear mother becomes more…”

“Excited?”

“Precisely,” Satine replied.

They walked quickly down the stairs, and by the time Satine reached the bottom, she found that her mother and her sister had been moved to the drawing room.

“There they are!” Esme said delightedly, sitting up.

“Mother,” Satine and Padmé said in unison. Satine found that Mr. Skywalker and Mr. Palpatine were in the room as well, although one certainly looked more disappointed in the sudden time of leaving than the other.

“I was just telling Mr. Skywalker how _excellent_ this room is,” Esme said, patting the edge of the sofa. “Such _expensive_ furnishings, too.” Esme followed this declaration with a happy little sigh, one which Satine promptly wished had never been given. Judging by the slight rigidity in her sister’s stance, Satine guessed that Padmé felt similarly as well. Bo-Katan, who looked absolutely bored and dreary on her side of the sofa, didn’t seem to particularly care for their mother’s exclamations.

But before Satine or Padmé could perhaps divert the topic, Esme continued, “We _do_ hope you stay a while, Mr. Skywalker.”

“Absolutely,” Mr. Skywalker said, straightening. He smiled a bit, which Satine would have been grateful for had he not been standing next to his now-frowning uncle. “I find the country most diverting.” Eyes lighting up, he added, “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kenobi?”

Everyone turned to Mr. Kenobi, who was only just coming in through the doorway.

“I find it perfectly adequate,” Mr. Kenobi responded, making his way steadily to Anakin’s side. “Even if the society’s a little less varied than in town.”

“Less varied?” Esme asked, bewildered. “Not at all!”

“Mother—” Satine started, but Esme wore a little indignant look on her face now, one which she was familiar with and one that brought Satine promptly back to the ball just the other night, moments before an occurrence of words that should never have been uttered.

“Why,” Esme was saying, “we dine with four and twenty families of all shapes and sizes.” She looked at Satine and Padmé expectantly, clearly waiting for some kind of affirmation, one which the two young ladies gave a weak nod to. Satine felt Padmé tug a little at her arm though, and she knew that both of them were equally sharing the embarrassment of the sudden eyes tossed in their direction.

“Yes,” Satine said. “Certainly, all sorts of interesting people, even if they may not particularly pique the interest of those from the city.”

A short silence followed that, which Satine was unsure whether she appreciated or not. But before the silence could stretch any longer, Esme said, “Mr. Skywalker, I heard that you planned on holding a ball here?”

“A ball?” Mr. Skywalker asked, blinking. “I—”

“It would be a most excellent way to make new friends,” Esme continued with a bright smile. “Perhaps even offer more varied company.”

Satine was uncertain of whether she appreciated this jibe or not, and even more uncertain if her mother’s words were meant to be a jibe at Mr. Kenobi’s comments at all, but either way, she couldn’t help but feel a tad bit of satisfaction at the slight surprise on the man’s face. She bit back a smile, although the satisfaction was short-lived as her mother went on to say, “Oh, you _must_ hold a ball, Mr. Skywalker—”

“ _Mother_.” This time, Padmé was the one who spoke. Thankfully, Esme quieted this time around.

But Mr. Skywalker only smiled. “When Miss Amidala is fully recovered, you shall name the day.”

Now it was Satine’s turn to nudge at her sister, who pointedly did not return the gesture.

“ _I_ think balls are a perfectly irrational way to make new acquaintances,” Bo-Katan said. The youngest Kryze sister’s posture had been increasingly growing more and more slouched over time, and she ignored Esme’s attempts to make her sit properly. “If anything, conversation, instead of dancing, should be the order of the day.”

Another awkward silence.

“Thank you, Bo-Katan,” Satine said.

\--

“A _ball_ ,” Satine muttered to Padmé as they walked out of the house. “Could Mother not get any more _obnoxious_ —she might as well announce that she’s looking for—”

“Hush,” Padmé replied, glancing over their shoulders. “That uncle might still be lurking.”

Satine let out a short laugh. “Yes, I was meaning to tell you—did you see his face? He looked like he had just swallowed a lemon the whole time—”

“Hush,” Padmé repeated, though she was smiling a little too. “Mr. Skywalker has a good deal of respect for the man.”

“Perhaps,” Satine said, “which is such a shame, because had it not been for his decision to keep company with Mr. Palpatine and Mr. Kenobi, I would have been inclined to say he has good taste.”

“ _Satine!_ ”

“I only joke,” Satine replied, squeezing her sister’s arm. She nodded down below, where their mother and sister waited in the carriage. Mr. Skywalker and Mr. Kenobi were waiting by, seeming to listen to whatever words Esme had to offer now. “Now you go on first—I’m sure Mr. Skywalker would like to send you off without my own presence.”

Padmé pinched Satine’s arm, but she walked down the steps. Just as Satine predicted, Mr. Skywalker’s face brightened as Padmé made her way towards him. There were little bows, a shy smile exchanged between the two.

“They do make a fine pair, don’t they?”

Satine turned around quickly. She hadn’t heard Mr. Palpatine come up behind her, but he stood in the doorway, the look on his face strangely and frighteningly serene. Had it not been for the fact that Satine had noticed the man’s obvious contempt in the drawing room and in the dining room the night before, she would have almost thought he was pleased with the sight between his nephew and Satine’s sister.

But of course, Satine _had_ noticed the expression both earlier that morning and the night before, and so she now regarded Mr. Palpatine warily.

“I believe they enjoy each other’s company,” Satine replied carefully.

“Yes,” Mr. Palpatine said, still watching the pair. He was quiet for a moment, and then, looking at Satine, he smiled. She didn’t like it. “My nephew is a very kind young man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Very cheerful, very happy. Cares a good deal for people.”

“Admirable traits,” Satine replied.

“Yes,” Mr. Palpatine agreed. He looked to the pair again. “But also naïve. Just ever so slightly.” He set his hand on the railing. “Which is why I worry for him.”

Satine turned to where Padmé and Anakin were still talking outside the carriage. Padmé dropped her head into a little bow. Mr. Skywalker mirrored her, offered her a hand up into the carriage.

Satine frowned. “Do you mean to—”

“Satine!”

Both Satine and Mr. Palpatine turned to find Ahsoka rushing to the door. “I was worried that you had already left! I only just remembered…”

Ahsoka grabbed Satine’s elbow and pulled her down the stairs, away from Mr. Palpatine. “Here,” Ahsoka said, passing Satine a book. Satine dimly realized that it was the same one that she had been reading from before—the one that Ahsoka had lent. “I think you left this. You can return it when you’re finished.”

“Are you certain?” Satine asked. “It might take some time…”

“All the better!” Ahsoka said cheerfully. “It’ll give my family plenty more of an excuse to stay here for that much longer.” The two of them stopped near the carriage. “And please do visit again—even if my dear old uncle isn’t the most welcoming kind of company.”

So Ahsoka must have heard the conversation. Satine gave Ahsoka a slight smile. “I most certainly won’t let any uncle scare me away,” she replied. She held up the book. “Thank you. I will take my time reading this book.”

Ahsoka beamed and, letting go of Satine’s arm, waved.

With that, Satine walked towards the carriage.

“Mr. Kenobi,” she said, tilting her head.

“Miss Kryze,” Mr. Kenobi replied, doing the same.

Satine turned to Mr. Skywalker, bowed once more. Mr. Skywalker smiled cheerfully, and Satine wondered how it was that someone who looked so genuinely happy could have possibly tolerated living with someone as dreadful as Mr. Palpatine.

But Satine supposed that would be a thought for another time. She took a step towards the carriage, and she was about to climb up when she suddenly felt a warm hand—gentle, light—guide her up the seat. Satine turned around quickly, just in time to catch Mr. Kenobi walking in the other direction.

\--

“You’ll be married before winter,” Esme said as the carriage reached the house. “I can be sure of it. Mr. Skywalker has taken _quite_ a liking to you—I am absolutely _sure_ of it.”

“We’ve only known each other for so long,” Padmé said, her cheeks pinking, although she looked rather pleased at the words. She looked to the house, smiling a little into her hand—and Satine would have smiled back if it hadn’t been for Mr. Palpatine’s words coming back to her mind.

“Well, you’ll have plenty more time to know him,” Bo-Katan muttered, crossing her arms. “Seeing that Mother’s gone off and talked him into hosting another _ball_.”

“One day, Bo-Katan,” Esme sniffed, “you will be glad that your dear old mother convinced our esteemed neighbors of holding such events.”

“One day,” Bo-Katan muttered, “I will be glad because I’ll have run away from my dear old mother’s silly traditions.”

Those were perhaps the wrong words to say, because Esme looked at once both hurt and offended, although Bo-Katan didn’t particularly seem to care, not as the carriage rolled to a stop. The youngest sister had already stormed out of the carriage, leaving the other sisters with Esme.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Padmé said kindly.

“No, she most certainly did,” Satine said. She stepped out of the carriage and turned to her mother. “Although perhaps letting her stay home during _one_ ball would bring down that temper of hers?”

“Certainly not!” Esme said, following Satine out of the carriage. “At this rate, she’ll become a spinster—”

“She’s still young,” Satine said wearily, waiting for Padmé to step down. “And there are hardly any willing suitors.”

“Hardly any!” Esme repeated. “There could be _plenty_ of suitable, marriageable men—and _you_ , Satine, what of you now? You’re certainly not getting any younger…”

“Thank goodness,” Satine said, starting for the house. She was sorely regretting defending Bo-Katan now, for her mother was still jabbering on about marriageable age and suitors even as she walked inside. “I was rather afraid of looking like a child forever. Although I dare say I will at least look like a _young_ spinster…”

“You will not become a spinster! You will—”

“Have a most wonderful time ending this conversation, I would think,” Satine said loftily. She would have closed the door in her mother’s face had Padmé not been outside with her, nor had her father not been waiting for their return.

“Good, you’re here,” Adonai said. His normally cheerful expression was grave, his lips pressed firmly together and eyebrows tightly furrowed.

“Is there something wrong?” Satine asked as Esme and Padmé walked inside.

“Not particularly,” Adonai replied, still frowning. He held up a letter, which Satine noticed bore a crest that was vaguely familiar. “Mrs. Kryze, I’m afraid we’ll be hosting another guest for dinner tomorrow night…and for several nights after.”

\--

“But I don’t understand,” Bo-Katan said, following Satine and Padmé through the streets. “Who is this cousin of ours, exactly? And how is it that I’ve never heard of him?”

“The last time he visited was before you were born,” Satine said, waiting for a few shoppers to pass them by. The rest of the town was at its peak hour of excitement, with men and women fluttering about with their new purchases. “And I suppose Mother would have assumed that we would all be married by now so as to not worry us about our dear cousin.”

“Essentially,” Padmé said, fixing her hat, “he is to inherit the house and the property once Father dies.”

“Because the fairer sex cannot properly handle such matters,” Satine added, turning around to face her sisters. She leaned against one of the beams holding up a store and, laying a hand over her forehead, announced, “No, such matters would be beyond the comprehension and aptitude of our frail minds.”

At that, Bo-Katan and Padmé both smiled, albeit they were strained ones.

“Not to worry,” Satine said, pushing herself away from the beam. “Father has quite a good deal of years left to live, and by then, we will all be in better circumstances.”

“Let us hope so,” Padmé murmured. “Don’t you remember the last time Almec came to visit? Such an awkward boy he was then…”

“And what an awkward man he must have become,” Satine said with a short laugh. Pulling on both sisters’ arms, she added, “But enough of that—we can make all our fun of our dear cousin with greater distraction about us.”

“Agreed,” Padmé said, although Bo-Katan only sighed as they walked into one of the closer shops. Ribbons and fabric swatches of all colors and patterns waited for them in here, and the sisters took to at least observing some of them, all the while keeping in mind of the coins in their pockets.

Satine was contemplating a particular ribbon—blue, velvet—when Padmé was suddenly at her side.

“I believe,” Padmé murmured, “that our sister has found a friend.”

“Really?” Satine turned slightly, just enough to catch that indeed, Bo-Katan was speaking with a man on the other side of the store. A militia man, Satine noticed, and although she couldn’t see his face, she could see Bo-Katan’s slight smile. Considering that her dear sister almost _never_ smiled at men, she supposed that perhaps—

“It would seem so,” Satine replied, looking back to Padmé. “Perhaps Bo-Katan isn’t as much a lost cause as Mother feared.”

Padmé’s face softened. “I don’t think any of us are lost causes,” she said with a pointed nudge to Satine.

Satine smiled. “You mustn’t think you need to comfort me,” she said, holding up her newly-selected ribbon. “I am perfectly content with the idea of being an old spinster. Perhaps I will become a governess, tutor girls who are just as…”

“Clever?”

“I was going to say stubborn,” Satine said, squeezing Padmé’s arm. “Although I do appreciate the praise.”

“But of course,” Padmé said. She picked up a ribbon. “Now, shall we go purchase these and then…perhaps meet this new gentleman our sister has fallen into conversation with?”

“But of course,” Satine mimicked.

And so the two went and purchased their ribbons, and by the time they reached Bo-Katan, they found that there was no longer one militia man, but two. One with significantly darker hair, and when Satine got closer, she just caught a few words from a deep voice, and then all three individuals looked to where Satine and Padmé were approaching them.

“What is it?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Nothing,” Satine said, looking once to the officers. She found that the one who she had seen before—the blond one, was taller in person now, with a long, narrow face but wearing a slight smile. His companion, on the other hand, was broader, with dark hair and a decent amount of tattoos on his face. “Although Padmé and I were just considering walking back, if you and…” She let her voice trail meaningfully.

Bo-Katan looked at Satine blankly.

The men, however, caught on.

“Pre Vizsla,” the smiling one said. “And my friend, Maul.”

The other man bowed his head slightly towards Satine and Padmé.

“And I am Bo-Katan’s sister,” Satine said. “Satine Kryze—and Padmé Amidala.”

The four all exchanged little nods to one another, smaller smiles before Bo-Katan interrupted, “Yes, well, we were only just going to walk through town.”

“Wonderful,” Satine said, ignoring Bo-Katan’s pointed look. “We’ll best walk altogether.” She smiled politely at the gentlemen, who nodded back.

With that agreement made, the party made their way out the store. Satine, of course, didn’t particularly mind when Bo-Katan moved ahead with Mr. Vizsla—she figured she could at least do them the courtesy of having a private conversation.

Mr. Maul, too, seemed more than willing to let the two have their own conversation, for he lingered behind with Satine and Padmé.

“Have you only just arrived?” Satine asked, just for something to ask in the silence.

“A few days ago,” Mr. Maul replied. He spoke quietly, his voice surprisingly deeper than Satine had expected. “We’ll be here through the summer.” He looked around the stores. “I don’t believe we’ve ever stopped here before.”

“Yes,” Satine noted, “I don’t think we’ve ever seen you or your friend here, either.” At the man’s curious glance, Satine smiled. “Only so much happens in these parts.”

“Nothing particularly wrong with that,” Mr. Maul commented.

“No,” Satine said, smiling, “I suppose not.” She looked to Mr. Vizsla and Bo-Katan, who had paused nearby one of the shops. “Although I’m sure you two have plenty of stories of more exciting places.”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Maul replied. “Then it is a good thing we have plenty stories to tell.”

“Hm.” Satine was about to say something else when she heard a familiar voice shout from behind. At first, she wasn’t sure who the voice belonged to—but then she noticed Padmé’s sudden excitement, and only a moment later did the two of them both turn to find that it was Mr. Skywalker and Mr. Kenobi.

Mr. Skywalker was all smiles, as per usual, but as he neared with Mr. Kenobi, Satine could have sworn she saw a sudden wariness flash across the young man’s face. At first, Satine wasn’t quite sure what that might have been for, but then she realized that both Mr. Skywalker and Mr. Kenobi’s eyes had fixed on Mr. Maul, of all people.

As the two neared, Satine noticed Mr. Kenobi grab Mr. Skywalker’s arm, mutter something that she couldn’t quite hear. Mr. Skywalker was no longer smiling, and Mr. Kenobi—well, he didn’t seem particularly keen on smiling, but still, he looked perhaps even cooler and more detached than in all the other times Satine had seen him.

And yet the two kept walking closer, and as they did, both men’s expressions grew steadily darker and darker until they passed Satine and Padmé.

“Miss Amidala,” Mr. Skywalker said, tilting his head.

“Mr. Skywalker,” Padmé replied. “Mr. Kenobi.”

“Miss Amidala,” Mr. Kenobi said. “Miss Kryze.”

Satine just nodded.

The group hovered together, and when Satine glanced over to her new companion, she found that Mr. Maul suddenly looked rigid and—to her surprise, _angry_. He looked at Mr. Kenobi and Mr. Skywalker with a contempt that she didn’t particularly think was possible for any single man, but when she looked back at the other two, she found that the feeling appeared mutual.

There was a strange silence that blanketed them all—and then, just as Satine was about to start with the introductions (although she had the strange suspicion that introductions wouldn’t be at all necessary), Mr. Kenobi said, “We have matters to tend to. Good day.”

Mr. Skywalker and he were already walking away when Satine thought to return the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do I know it's not Saturday? Yes. Did I update anyways because I missed Saturday's usual update? Also yes! 
> 
> Sorry for the lateness everyone--I think I was a little burned out from the semester recently ending for me, but I'm back on the horse! 
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

“Why is _he_ here, of all people?” Anakin muttered as the two walked away. He looked over their shoulders once, but Obi-Wan tugged him away so that they wouldn’t run into some of the shoppers. “And why _here_ —did he know that _you_ —”

“I don’t know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “I assume he just happened to join the militia. You saw his clothes.”

“ _Maul_ , join the militia?” Anakin repeated. He turned around again, and once more, Obi-Wan had to direct him away from the path of other shoppers and pedestrians. “There’s no way someone like _him_ —”

“Why not?” Obi-Wan murmured. “No one would question it.”

Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s gaze settle on him. “No need to look at me like that,” he said. They parted around a group of children, rejoined at the end of the path. They were exiting the main part of town now, much to Obi-Wan’s relief.

They walked for some time, the path growing steadily less defined. Obi-Wan had been the one to suggest they walk—the main town wasn’t far off, and Obi-Wan had known that Anakin would prefer to spend more time out of the house than less. They would have brought Ahsoka along, but now Obi-Wan was glad that they hadn’t.

“So what are you thinking of now?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Obi-Wan replied. A light breeze picked up the grasses around them.

“I think you do,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan contemplated the ground around them. “There’s nothing I can do,” he replied. “I’ve sent my letters. Matters of the past will be settled, and as for Maul himself…” He looked at Anakin. “I hadn’t predicted that he would join the militia, but since he has…” He forced his tone to lighten, turning back to the path in front of them. “Things might even resolve themselves easier.”

“You don’t believe that,” Anakin said.

“Come now,” Obi-Wan said, “what happened to the young man who told me that I needed to get away from this mess in the first place?”

“He just saw the man who ruined your life,” came Anakin’s hard reply.

Obi-Wan paused. He looked to Anakin, whose eyes dropped briefly.

Obi-Wan smiled. “You mustn’t worry too much about me, my friend,” he said, setting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

“If I don’t worry about you, who will?” Anakin muttered, but he didn’t move away. With a sigh, he added, “I could find out why Maul would be stationed here. And his friend…you noticed that he has a friend now, didn’t you?”

“An acquaintance, yes,” Obi-Wan said, dropping his hand. As they resumed their walk, Obi-Wan thought back to the person who had stood by Maul during their encounter. A gentleman who couldn’t have been that much older than Maul himself. He had looked more cheerful than Maul, certainly, and he had looked particularly interested in speaking with Satine and her sisters.

That was yet another thing that Obi-Wan hadn’t expected. He supposed that they would have no choice but to happen upon each other, given the size of the town—and yet, he had still been surprised to find Satine outside any area that wasn’t the public hall or the Skywalkers’ residence.

“So what do you make of him?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan must have looked confused, because his friend clarified, “Maul’s new acquaintance.”

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan replied. He glanced behind them, where the town was now little more than a few blocks of color. “Although anyone who happens to be a friend of Maul’s may be a questionable character.”

“Must be, you mean,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but agree, but all he said was, “Let’s hope that the two of them don’t stay long, then.” The house was coming up now, and Obi-Wan saw Ahsoka perched on a tree branch. Even from this distance, Ahsoka saw them—she straightened and waved.

Waving back, Obi-Wan added, “The militia moves every so often. They’ll be gone soon.”

Anakin nodded, but as the two of them reached the house, Obi-Wan couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

\--

“You haven’t been listening to me.”

Obi-Wan looked up. Ahsoka was hovering near his desk, her arms folded over her chest. At her lifted brows, Obi-Wan said, “I’m sorry Ahsoka—what was it you were saying?”

“I asked if you had any particularly strong feelings about Miss Amidala coming to visit again,” Ahsoka said. She picked up one of Obi-Wan’s pens, rolling it between her hands. “I hardly think one visit is satisfactory, don’t you think? Not at least to know our new neighbors.”

“You have an entire summer to know your neighbors,” Obi-Wan said, re-opening his book. “I’m sure you will manage to make some time for them, and they you.”

“Yes, you’re so sure,” Ahsoka said, sitting down in a nearby armchair. “But what _I’m_ saying is that we ought to invite Miss Amidala again—and sooner is always better than later, is it not?”

“Not always,” Obi-Wan replied, closing his book. The words didn’t make much sense to him, not that they had made any sense in the last few hours. He turned around to Ahsoka, who was still rolling the pen between her hands. “Why are you asking me these things? I’m sure you’ll find a way to coax Miss Amidala into this house no matter my opinion.”

Ahsoka smiled. “That is true,” she said, holding up the pen to the light. “But I suppose I ask because it would be so much more reassuring for Miss Amidala to feel wanted by the entirety of this household, rather than just myself, don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan replied. “Why don’t you ask Anakin? I’m sure he has an opinion on the matter.”

“Anakin happens to be with our dear uncle,” Ahsoka said. “And I happen to not want to interrupt any conversation of us with any mention of Miss Amidala. He always looks so terribly annoyed when I bring up the subject.”

Obi-Wan paused. He had noticed that much during their recent guest’s stay at the house. Palpatine hadn’t said much to Miss Amidala, but then again, he hadn’t been present for the majority of the trip save for meal times and his occasional walks with Anakin. Obi-Wan looked out the window now, to where Anakin and Palpatine were hovering near a rosebush.

Anakin lifted his head, and Obi-Wan noticed how relief suddenly bloomed across his face. His friend waved, but Obi-Wan didn’t get to return the gesture before Anakin and Palpatine were already walking in the opposite direction.

“No matter how your uncle may feel about Miss Amidala,” Obi-Wan said, standing up, “I’m certain matters between the two wouldn’t be wholly changed. And if they were…” He paused, setting his hand on the desk. Miss Amidala seemed a pleasant enough woman—she was, and she certainly seemed to laugh at whatever Anakin had to say, but all the same, he remembered other instances. Particularly a ball earlier in their stay here, with a mother who Obi-Wan had noticed seemed intent on looking between all the gentlemen in the hall.

“And if they were?” Ahsoka asked.

Obi-Wan swept his book off the desk and walked across the room to the shelves. “And if they were any less fond of each other, then such will be revealed soon enough.” He pushed his book into his proper place.

“ _Such will be revealed soon enough_ ,” Ahsoka repeated. “Given their current state of affairs, I don’t think that will be happening any time soon.”

“Why so hopeful?” Obi-Wan asked, turning around to Ahsoka. She still fiddled with the pen, now taking to tap it thoughtfully against her palm instead of rolling it between her fingers. Ahsoka looked at him without so much as a blink. “I don’t recall you feeling particularly urgent on the matters of your brother’s personal affairs.”

“Perhaps I am bored,” Ahsoka replied. “Or…” She set the pen down on the desk. “Perhaps I just happen to spy two eager individuals and believe them to be most suitable for one another.”

“They have only known one another but for a few days,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “We know nothing about Miss Amidala’s family—”

“Her family seems perfectly reasonable to me,” Ahsoka said, her eyes sparkling. “Miss Kryze is rather lovely, and I had the most interesting conversation with their mother over the ball…”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Obi-Wan replied. He walked back to the desk, glanced out the window again. Anakin and Palpatine had moved on to a different rosebush, and now Obi-Wan could tell that the older man was saying something that made Obi-Wan rather intent on lowering himself farther and farther down with the smaller roses. “I seem to recall Mrs. Kryze being particularly eager to advertise Miss Amidala as someone most suitable for a match.”

“So you agree then,” Ahsoka said triumphantly. “That Miss Amidala would be suitable for Anakin.”

“I did not say such,” Obi-Wan replied, looking to Ahsoka. “I merely said that Mrs. _Kryze_ seemed to believe that Miss Amidala would make a suitable match. For anyone, I believe.”

“Well,” Ahsoka huffed, folding her arms over her chest, “now you’re just being rude.”

“Rude, no,” Obi-Wan replied. “Practical, perhaps.” He looked at Ahsoka. “We can’t know the full nature of all people, Ahsoka. One may appear promising one day and reveal themselves to be the exact opposite the next,”

Ahsoka was quiet for a moment. Then, lifting her chin, she asked, “Is that what you believe after the events of today?”

Obi-Wan stared. “How did you—”

Then, shaking his head, he muttered, “ _Anakin_.”

“Don’t be cross with him,” Ahsoka said, leaning against the desk. She looked to Obi-Wan with that half-triumphant, half-disappointed expression that she was starting to wear better through the years. “I knew that there was something wrong the moment you came back. I had to ask Anakin once you left.”

“That was not his information to tell,” Obi-Wan said.

“And why not?” Ahsoka asked. She straightened, the look on her face growing harder and more determined still. “Shouldn’t I at least know what’s causing one of my own friends to act so miserably?”

“I am not miserable,” Obi-Wan said. At Ahsoka’s sigh, Obi-Wan repeated, “You may sigh and roll your eyes all you like—there is nothing to worry about. Nothing that you should worry yourself with.”

“Nothing _I_ should worry myself with…” Ahsoka pressed her lips together. She pushed herself away from the desk and peered out the window once. Stood up straighter and, brushing her hands against her dress, she said loftily, “Don’t pretend that I’m not aware of all the trouble someone like Maul has caused. I am every the inch as capable of handling troubling news as Anakin.”

Obi-Wan managed a slight smile, even though it felt weak even to himself. “I know you are capable,” he said. “Unlike others, I do not doubt your capabilities in handling certain events or news.”

With that much said, Ahsoka’s face softened.

“ _However_ ,” Obi-Wan added, stepping away from the window, “I told Anakin myself—this will be something that fades into the background. Should anything arise, I will take care of the matters. As for Anakin and yourself…you two need to do nothing.”

“Unfortunately, one of my least favorite things to do,” Ahsoka murmured, following Obi-Wan out the room.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said. “We all make sacrifices.”

“Maybe,” Ahsoka commented as the two walked into the foyer. “But I would prefer that we not make sacrifices all the time. Which is why…” Her voice drifted as Anakin and Palpatine stepped through the doors. Her face brightened considerably, and that bad feeling returned again.

\--

This was how Obi-Wan found himself standing at the top of the bannister, gazing down at the guests trickling into the house. Music drifted from one of the other rooms, somehow sounding over even the laughter and the babble of the people below. He spied Ahsoka flitting between the guests, Anakin standing in the foyer and not so obviously looking for a particular someone.

“Not joining the excitement, Mr. Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan turned sharply. Palpatine hovered near the other bannister, one aged hand curled around the rail. To Obi-Wan’s surprise, Palpatine was dressed in the same formal attire as everyone else.

“And you are?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I plan to make an appearance, yes,” Palpatine replied, looking down at the crowd. He pressed his lips together as he looked to Obi-Wan again. “It is the least I could do for my nephew. But why, I ask, are you still up here?” He tapped a hand against the railing. “I am sure your presence would be most appreciated.”

Obi-Wan looked away from Palpatine. Below, Anakin straightened. As if on cue, the music lightened, and on the other side of the foyer, Obi-Wan found a certain family already making their way into the house. Like everyone else, the women were dressed in shades of cream and white, the men—for Obi-Wan now found who he could only assume was Mr. Kryze as well as what might have been another relative, judging by the close resemblance—dressed in the formal black.

“I believe Anakin will not be bored for long,” Obi-Wan said, dropping his hand from the bannister.

“Ah, yes,” Palpatine said, his voice much closer. When Obi-Wan looked, the man was leaning a little over the railing, his skin taking on a nearly sallow quality in the light. Palpatine’s watery eyes narrowed at the sight of the new guests standing in the foyer. Padmé now spoke to Anakin, and though listening to their conversation would be impossible, Obi-Wan could hear his friend’s bright laugh even above the rumble of the other guests.

“And what is your opinion of this guest of ours?” Palpatine asked.

Obi-Wan looked again to the man. “Why ask of my opinion?” he asked. He looked back to the pair. Satine was a little way from them, talking in a somewhat conspiratorial manner to her other sister—Bo-Katan, Obi-Wan remembered. “When I am certain you have your own.”

“Such a diplomatic response,” Palpatine replied. “Or perhaps an accusatory one.”

“I have no desire or need to accuse you of anything,” Obi-Wan said. “Although I prefer not to waste either your or mine time.”

Palpatine smiled. “No doubt you mean that as a courtesy.” He looked down at the crowd again. Obi-Wan noticed the man’s eyes following Anakin and Padmé, who now left the foyer. “But you are correct, Mr. Kenobi. I do not like to waste my time. I would hope my nephew learns to do the same.”

Obi-Wan paused. Then, stepping down the stairs, he said, “I am sure Anakin will learn. But Mr. Palpatine—”

He looked up at the man from where he stood. “I find that Anakin tends not to see people as a waste of time, if that is what you fear.”

Not waiting for a response, Obi-Wan walked down the rest of the stairs to join the rest of the guests.

\--

“You’re here!”

“You sound so surprised,” Obi-Wan commented, taking the glass from Ahsoka’s hand. He set it down on one of the tables before looking to the rest of the room. “I hope you’re happy.”

“Extremely,” Ahsoka replied. “And look how happy everyone else is!”

Obi-Wan had to agree with Ahsoka on that point. The music had picked up to a much livelier tune now, and everyone’s faces were flushed from dancing and laughing and drinking. Obi-Wan found Anakin drifting around Padmé, their eyes both bright. Once, Padmé left, and Anakin’s eyes followed her around the room.

“Well, I suppose you’ve done a fine job, judging by everyone’s expressions,” Obi-Wan commented.

“Yes…save for one of them,” Ahsoka said, nodding to the other side of the room. Obi-Wan followed her gaze to find the other man who had accompanied the Kryze family. He was speaking with Satine and Bo-Katan, although both sisters looked only the slightest interested in the conversation.

“They’ve been speaking for quite some time now,” Ahsoka said. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“He appears to be a guest of theirs,” Obi-Wan replied. He looked for the glass, but someone had already taken it away.

“Yes…and he seems to be a most entertaining fellow,” Ahsoka said. But before she could say more, someone called to Ahsoka. Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure whether to be relieved or not. Either way, he nodded in the general direction where that call came from.

“I believe you are needed elsewhere,” he said.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Ahsoka replied. Before leaving, she smiled. “You’ll find something to do while we’re all away, won’t you?”

“I will,” Obi-Wan assured her.

Ahsoka just smiled again, and then she was walking towards another young woman. The two disappeared easily into the rest of the crowd, and Obi-Wan was left alone once more. He took to observing the rest of the room again—the music had only just started another tune, and now a few people gathered in pairs to begin.

Satine, Obi-Wan found, was in one of the pairs. She bowed once to her partner—the relative whom Obi-Wan had seen her arrive to the house with. However, when she lifted her head, Obi-Wan made out the slight rigidness of her expression.

He looked elsewhere as the music started. He found himself looking at other dancers instead, but as the lines moved, he found Satine easily again. Padmé was at her other side, and although she was dancing with Anakin, Obi-Wan could tell that there were words being exchanged between the two sisters. Words that, it would seem, Satine was not quite fond of.

The partner, on the other hand, seemed to grow frustrated with Satine’s lack of engagement in the dance. He kept opening his mouth to say something before Satine would suddenly step away, her head turned resolutely to continue her conversation with her sister.

Obi-Wan almost felt sorry for Satine’s partner—but then the partner said something that made Satine narrow her eyes so accusingly that Obi-Wan could feel the weight of the stare even from the opposite side of the room. He saw her open her mouth, say something, and when the dance was finished, Satine marched to the other end of the room. She wasn’t quite looking where she was going, and she didn’t appear to notice even him as she marched past. Obi-Wan kept himself as still as possible, observing his shoes first and then the chandelier as she stopped only steps away from himself.

Obi-Wan now looked to where Padmé was saying something to Anakin—and then she too followed Satine, shooting Satine’s partner a pleasant smile that might have otherwise seemed friendly had Obi-Wan not just watched the spectacle a moment before.

The music resumed. Obi-Wan looked again to Satine, who was shaking her head at Padmé.

“ _Men_ ,” Satine was saying.

“You did try to give him _one_ dance,” Padmé said. “I’m sure that will be enough.”

“I think not,” Satine huffed. “In the case you haven’t noticed Mother and her constant prattling…”

Obi-Wan glanced around the room again. The partner Satine had walked away from was now headed in their direction. Obi-Wan looked again to Satine, who was still in heated conversation with Padmé.

Obi-Wan decided that he would reach Satine first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

Mr. Almac arrived in the evening with his nose already turned up at the house. “Good evening,” he said stiffly. “Mr. Kryze.”

Satine’s father smiled. “Mr. Almac,” he said. “Welcome.”

A dull, strange silence was the only response—Satine found that nothing in her cousin’s actual countenance had changed.

Then, with lifted voice, Adonai added, “We’re glad that you’re here.”

Satine nudged her sisters. That was their signal to descend, although they were all slow in their walk down the stairs. Even Esme seemed particularly off-put by their cousin’s sudden arrival, her hands and lips clasped tightly together.

“Cousin,” Mr. Almac said, nodding to Satine. “You look well.”

“As do you,” Satine replied, making a point to keep her eyes level with her cousin. He had grown considerably since the last time Satine had seen him, and it certainly didn’t help that Mr. Almac just had a neck longer than the average person’s. Satine briefly wondered if her cousin perhaps stretched his neck daily as one would stretch their arms or legs to get ready for the morning.

The thought, which Satine had hoped would make this meeting a bit more lighthearted, only made her grimace. She wished she hadn’t conjured up the image to begin with.

“Well,” Mr. Almac said at last. “Best not just stand here—Satine, please show our guest to his room.”

Satine shot her father a quick look, but he just tilted his head towards Mr. Almac. A subtle tilt, one that Satine read as a quiet plea.

Satine dared not look at Bo-Katan or Padmé as she stepped back. “Of course.”

Mr. Almac nodded, stepped through the doorway. He nodded once to Padmé, who nodded back with a tight smile. He nodded to Bo-Katan, who just looked at Almac with slightly furrowed brows.

“Bo,” Satine said, “come help with Mr. Almac’s things, will you? And Padmé, would you—”

“Of course not,” Padmé said quickly, walking up the stairs. She looked at Satine once, and Satine would have been glad to start laughing aloud then, for her sister gave her the most bemused look already.

Bo-Katan, on the other hand, didn’t look too pleased to be the one chosen for the task, but she nodded if only, Satine supposed, to at least absorb more information about their cousin.

“How lucky I am,” Mr. Almac commented as the four of them started up the stairs. “To have cousins so willingly able to help.”

“We would help any of our guests, Mr. Almac,” Satine replied, setting a hand on the rail. She reached the landing after a few quick strides and gestured down the hallway.

“You keep many guests, then?” Mr. Almac asked, looking at the door curiously. He craned his neck, looking around to the other rooms. “I would not have expected a house as small or old as this to hold too many at a time.”

At this, Bo-Katan narrowed her eyes. Padmé, too, frowned just the slightest at the remark, and though both her sisters started to say something, Satine replied evenly, “I can assure you, Mr. Almac, our house is quite capable of holding multiple guests. We might have even held multiple suitors here, if our father were just a bit less concerned with reputation.”

Padmé laughed, covering it up with a quick cough when Mr. Almac turned to look at her.

“Feeling poorly, Miss Amidala?” he asked stiffly.

“No,” Padmé managed. “No, just a bit of dust.”

Almac squinted at the windows. “Yes,” he said halfheartedly. “The house could probably do with some more cleaning…”

“You can let our mother know of your concerns then, Mr. Almac,” Satine said, still smiling. “I am sure she will be _most_ pleased to hear of your opinion.”

Bo-Katan cheered. “Good idea,” she said. “In fact, I can get her right now…”

“No,” Padmé said, brushing a finger against the window. There was, of course, no dust at all—Padmé’s finger came away clean. “I am certain Mr. Almac will find that airing his grievances over dinner would be much more preferable.”

“After all, the conversation must be _somewhat_ stimulating,” Satine said, flashing her sisters a quick smile. She turned her gaze back on her cousin, who simply looked lost. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Almac?”

“I—yes,” Mr. Almac said. He turned to Bo-Katan, extending his hand. “My case, please.”

“Of course,” Bo-Katan said easily, handing Mr. Almac his belongings—or what was probably supposed to be a neat hand-off of his belongings, anyways. The case fell with a particularly loud _thump_ , just barely missing Mr. Almac’s feet.

“Oh dear,” Satine said. “How clumsy of you, Bo.”

“Indeed,” Bo-Katan replied.

Mr. Almac just huffed. He picked up his case and, turning to Satine, said, “I suppose the door beyond is my room then?”

“It is indeed,” Satine replied, opening the door. She gestured inside. “We will meet you for dinner, cousin.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Almac replied, and a moment later, the door closed in their faces.

Satine dared not look at Padmé or Bo-Katan right away—they all hurried down the hall to their bedroom—and Satine only just barely managed to close her door before the three sisters burst into quiet titters.

“What did I tell you?” Satine asked Bo-Katan. “He’s rather ridiculous, isn’t he?”

“ _Small, old_ …” Bo-Katan rolled her eyes. “There is _nothing_ wrong with our house.”

“Oh, yes, the windows must be cleaned,” Padmé said airily, sitting down on the bed. “Bo, I hope you realize that there will be more remarks to come at dinner.”

“Do you think Mother will actually get annoyed?” Bo-Katan asked. “Or will she just sit prim and proper as ladies are meant to?”

“I suppose we shall see,” Satine replied, sitting down on the bed. She dragged Bo-Katan down with her, and the three sisters laid back, their hands and hair tangling together as they looked up at the ceiling. “It would be an interesting debate to witness, wouldn’t you two think? They could fight about suitors and windows and how best to dress a turkey…”

“What table manners consist of and how often a lady must do things like darn socks and embroider…” Bo-Katan murmured.

“Oh, they wouldn’t argue about that,” Padmé said seriously. “They would argue about much, much sillier things.”

“Something even sillier than darning socks and embroidery?” Bo-Katan asked.

“No, Bo has a point,” Satine said, looking to Padmé. “I would think it rather difficult to find any topic that might be more trivial than such.”

“We will have to use our imagination then,” Padmé replied.

As the three young women dissolved into laughter again, there was a sudden knock on the door.

All three sat up quickly, and Satine wondered if perhaps they had been too loud—if their cousin had somehow heard them from across the hall, but a moment later, Adonai called, “I believe you three have something from the mail.”

Satine looked at Padmé and Bo-Katan, who both shrugged.

Satine walked over to the door, opened it to find her father standing with three envelopes—cream-colored, clearly made out of expensive paper, written in careful black ink. “I believe we have an invitation,” was all what Adonai said before handing Satine the letters.

Satine turned the envelopes over in her hands. The paper _had_ to be more expensive than it looked—she could feel the heaviness of the paper in her hands, the slightest grooves from where the ink had dried. “Is it…” She started, but when she looked back up, her father was already walking back down the stairs.

Satine frowned down at the envelope.

“What is it?” Padmé asked. “Anything particularly exciting?”

Satine closed the door and walking back to the bed, said, “I think you’ll have to see for yourself.”

She threw one letter to Bo-Katan, the other to Padmé. Flipped the last one—the one with her own name scripted so carefully on the paper—over and over in her hands until both Padmé and Bo-Katan had folded open their letters.

“I believe,” Padmé said, looking up quickly, “the Skywalkers are hosting their first ball after all. As promised.”

“ _Really_ ,” Satine said, and rushing over to Padmé’s side, scanned the letter: she found slightly messy script, a small little drawing at the corner of the paper. Satine smiled. She saw two little figures dancing in the corner, puddles of water gathered about their feet.

“A ball,” Satine repeated. “Well, that will be most exciting.”

“ _Another_ ball?” Bo-Katan asked, closing up the envelope. She tossed the letter to the side and, with a scowl, added, “But I had been under the impression that balls took so much longer to organize.”

“And that _so much longer_ phase has apparently run out,” Padmé said rather happily now. She stood up and, still smiling at her envelope, said quickly, “We’ll have to discuss this at dinner—if Father hadn’t showed Mother the invitation already.” There was a pause. “Do you think Father—”

“I don’t think so,” Satine said, just as a sharp cry broke from downstairs. Satine heard the guest room door bang open, most likely either check for commotion or scowl at whoever was causing the said promotion, Satine was not quite sure.

But another moment passed, and then Esme’s voice floated up to the second floor, loud and clear: _“there is hope for Satine and Bo-Katan just yet! They’ll have their suitors eventually, and now…_ ”

Satine tossed Padmé a grimace, one which the young woman returned with equal ease.

“Well, Mother will at least have no worries for you,” Satine said, setting aside her envelope. She settled back between her sisters, and closing her eyes, added, “She has most certainly predicted your wedding date already.”

“Oh, don’t,” Padmé said, putting her own envelope down. “She’s only rushing into things.”

“Do you think Mr. Skywalker would agree with that sentiment?” Satine asked. “Or do you think things are not being rushed _enough?_ ”

Padmé paused. “Mr. Skywalker has his own opinions,” she replied. “I will not speak for him.”

“Ever the diplomat,” Satine said, smiling, but before Padmé could respond, the door flung open.

“You three,” Esme said, her cheeks pink, “don’t just _hide_ in here—entertain your cousin.”

“Must we?” Satine asked wearily, sitting up. “Mr. Almac would most certainly be better entertained by a rock.”

“I can assure you he won’t,” Esme said. “Because he has been pestering your father about property holdings ever since he finished unpacking—now _quick_. Just until dinner!”

\--

By the time dinner was ready, Satine thought she had _quite_ enough of her cousin. She could only listen to him speak of sermons and his great patron for so long before wanting to leave him—and she knew her sisters felt similarly, as they kept stifling yawns or rolling their eyes when Mr. Almac wasn’t looking.

Satine had been most relieved when Esme finally told them that dinner was prepared—she no longer wanted to be the sole member of the family keeping Mr. Almac company, but the moment they all sat down to the table, Satine knew that there would still be tedious discussion.

“And to which of my fair cousins am I to thank for this affair?” Mr. Almac asked, cutting into his food.

“Mr. Almac, we are perfectly capable of owning a cook,” Esme said stiffly, and if Satine hadn’t already been annoyed with her mother for forcing her to spend time with Mr. Almac, she would have cheered.

“And how could we possibly have prepared this?” Satine asked now, picking her glass. “We’ve been busy with the much more impressive task of keeping you company.”

There was a short laugh from the other end of the table, but Mr. Almac didn’t seem to notice. “Yes,” he said, “I have most enjoyed our spirited conversation.”

 _Spirited_ , Satine thought, sipping from her glass. Mr. Almac had been the one doing the majority of the talking.

“I was only telling your daughters of my patron,” Mr. Almac said now, looking around the table. “The great Count Dooku—he owns _quite_ the estate, and he every so often rides past my own dwelling.”

The clatter of forks and knives against plates were the only response.

“He has been most adamant about my finding a partner,” Mr. Almac continued. “And he has introduced me to a number of young ladies that he deems respectable.” He smiled, and Satine sipped once again from her glass. “One such young lady, I commented, had all the qualities of being a _duchess_ —I told Dooku that she had all the graces of someone more elevated than her rank.”

With another pleased look around the table, Mr. Almac continued, “These compliments, I am to believe, are _most_ acceptable to the ladies, which I believe myself bound to pay.”

Satine lifted her eyes to look at Padmé, who was across the table. Padmé seemed more interested in her food, although Satine noticed the slightest twitch in her cheek—presumably her sister trying to keep herself from laughing.

Biting back her own smile, Satine looked to Mr. Almac. “Tell me, Mr. Almac,” she said, “are these compliments those that come about from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?”

Satine felt a kick at her shin—but she refused to look at Padmé, who most certainly was responsible, because even out of the corner of her eye, Satine could spy the slowly widening grin.

“Occasionally, the rise in the moment of time,” Mr. Almac replied with a smile. “Although I will admit that often I will compose such compliments—in such cases, I take great care to give them as unstudied an air upon delivery.”

“Believe me,” Satine said with as much surprise she could muster, “ _no one_ would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.”

That did it—both Padmé and Satine let out a short laugh, one which both covered with a napkin or the sudden grab of a glass.

“Then Mr. Almac,” Adonai said, looking suddenly fascinated with his own glass, “I suppose you will be most pleased to hear that you will have many opportunities to practice your…compliments when we attend Mr. Skywalker’s ball.”

“Do you consider yourself a great attender of such events, Mr. Almac?” Satine asked politely.

“I do not often attend,” Mr. Almac replied, and Satine felt something in her relax—but only for a moment, because then Mr. Almac said, “Although I will be most pleased to attend with this family.”

Satine looked at Padmé, whose smile had faded.

“Now, I was wondering,” Mr. Almac continued, “if I could perhaps read to your family for an hour or two after dinner…”

\--

Such was how Satine found herself avoiding Mr. Almac at the ball. She did not particularly care if Mr. Almac wasn’t familiar with the majority of those in the Skywalker residence—if he was so determined to embarrass himself, then he would embarrass himself without Satine’s help.

Only Mr. Almac seemed determined to keep Satine in his company, and when he asked her to dance, Satine found that her mother agreed for her.

And the dance had commenced—with trodden toes and clammy hands and Mr. Almac prattling on about something that Satine didn’t quite care to learn about. She tried to stay at least somewhat focused to avoid herself from getting stepped on anymore, but when shes came back to the dance, Mr. Almac had started speaking of “the count’s agreement that his future spouse must be a woman of great…”

Satine shot a look to Padmé, who was torn between her own dance with Mr. Skywalker and her sister’s plight.

“Don’t you agree, Miss Kryze?”

Satine looked back at Mr. Almac. “Of course,” she said.

The music wound down, and Satine was glad to let go of Mr. Almac’s hand. She stepped back, tilted her head, and was ready to flee to the other side of the room when Mr. Almac said, “Then I hope that you will do me the honor of staying by my side for the rest of the night.”

Satine stared.

\--

“He said that he hoped I do _him_ the honor of staying at his _side_ ,” Satine groused to Padmé. They now hid at the very farthest side of the room, although Satine could see Mr. Almac steadily making his way towards her. “ _Men_.”

“You did try to give him _one_ dance,” Padmé said, squeezing Satine’s hand. “I’m sure that will be enough.”

“I think not,” Satine replied miserably. “In the case you haven’t noticed Mother and her constant prattling…” She looked at Padmé. “She practically _threw_ me to Mr. Almac, and if I know Mother, which I _do_ , then she will have a plan for me to—”

“Miss Kryze.”

“Oh, whatever _now_ —” Satine turned and, quite suddenly, found herself face-to-face with not Mr. Almac, but—

“Mr. Kenobi,” Satine said. She spied Mr. Almac stopping short behind, his eyebrows furrowed just the slightest.

Mr. Kenobi tilted his head. “May I have the next dance?”

Satine looked at him. She expected some kind of mockery to follow, but when none came, she replied, “You may.”

Mr. Kenobi nodded, and once he was gone, Satine whispered, “Did I just accept a dance from Mr. Kenobi?”

“I believe you did,” Padmé replied mildly.

Satine sighed, and, realizing that Mr. Almac was still walking towards her, she tugged Padmé and herself away.

\--

The music did little to ease the tightness in Satine’s chest as she bowed to Mr. Kenobi. When she lifted her head, she again waited for some mocking look—some cold expression, but he remained as still as ever, the only movement on his face the slightest flicker of his eyes upon stepping forward.

Satine took his hands, too aware of their warmth as they circled one another. She remembered quite suddenly the hand that had led her up to the carriage—and like then, the hands that held hers were surprisingly light.

“I love this dance,” Satine said shortly, letting go of his hands. She circled around the other dancers, came back around to meet him. “I find it most invigorating.”

“Yes, I agree,” Mr. Kenobi replied.

They circled one another once more, and Satine waited a few beats before saying, “Well, I have now commented on the dance—this is where you must comment on something like the state of the room or the other couples.”

Mr. Kenobi looked briefly to Satine before they took their turn. “Do you make it a rule to talk while dancing?”

Satine smiled to herself. “No,” she replied. “I prefer to be unsociable.” She looked at Mr. Kenobi. “It makes the dance all the more enjoyable, don’t you think?”

Mr. Kenobi did not deign to give this a response. He only looked to the other side of the room, and, after another pause, he asked, “Do you and your sisters often walk to town?”

Satine tilted her head at him. He looked back down at her, if only for a few moments before looking again to the other side of the room. “Yes,” she said after a while. “My sisters and I often walk to town.” She circled about him. “It’s a great opportunity to meet new people.”

She looked once again to Mr. Kenobi. She remembered their sudden encounter then—where she had just been standing with Mr. Vizsla and Mr. Maul, and then the odd looks that one party had given the other. “In fact,” she said slowly, “we had only just the pleasure of making new acquaintances when we last met.”

“Mr. Maul,” Mr. Kenobi said with surprising quickness, “is quite good at making new friends. Although I assure you his talents of keeping them are less so.”

Satine lifted an eyebrow. “Well,” she said, looking steadily onwards, “he has been so unfortunate so as to lose your friendship, I assume. And I dare say that must be an irreversible event?”

“It is,” Mr. Kenobi replied sharply. They paused together, even though both music and dancers had not stopped. He was studying Satine so carefully, she realized now. Grey-blue eyes meeting her own with a sudden fierceness that she had not recognized before. “Why do you ask such questions?”

“To make out your character,” Satine replied, lifting her chin.

“And what have you discovered?” Now that they had paused, Satine registered that they were standing much closer than they had all night. She counted the smallest and faintest of freckles on Mr. Kenobi’s cheeks.

“Very little,” Satine replied. His lashes were longer than she had expected, too. “Although the different manners in which others perceive you is most puzzling.”

Mr. Kenobi dropped his eyes down Satine’s face, then lifted them back up—first to her eyes, then beyond her. “Then I hope to afford you more clarity in the future.”

They stepped away from one another, and the dance resumed. Satine let go of Mr. Kenobi’s hands, circled around the other dancers—but she wasn’t aware of who was whom, not as she lifted her eyes once more to Mr. Kenobi’s.

He met her gaze unblinkingly, unwavering.

They came back to each other, hands no longer as light as they had been at the start—hands too warm. If she moved her fingers just the slightest, she could probably find Mr. Kenobi’s pulse.

She thought she felt Mr. Kenobi’s hands twitch in hers.

When the music stopped and they let go, Satine could still feel that warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait everyone--life is a little odd right now, but i wanted to get out this chapter for you guys before i hit the road (the spring semester's about to start!) later today.
> 
> as always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> well, surprise everyone! this is going to be my first crack at a longform obitine au, and...lo and behold, it had to be a pride and prejudice au, because i'm convinced obi-wan and satine are the period drama couple of star wars. i have tentative plans for this fic to be updated weekly, or perhaps every two weeks, depending on my schedule, and hopefully on saturdays. this fic will also be switching perspectives between obi-wan and satine, so not to worry, we will have plenty of the classic satine/lizzy wit and...i suppose in this case, kryze/amidala shenanigans? (i hope no one minds that i just said "okay padme's just gonna be satine's sister". mayhaps another ward, so she's still Padme Amidala, not Padme Kryze.)
> 
> of course, this won't be a *direct* re-work of pride and prejudice-there are, you might have noticed if you're at all familiar with the book/series/movie, some tweaks. (ie. i have decided to do away completely with the rude and snooty caroline bingley figure and replaced her with ahsoka, who is nothing but supportive and an absolute sweetheart. there are some other things that i've tweaked with the storyline, but if you happen to love pride & prejudice, i can assure you that there will still be all of those core components for our lovely ship.)
> 
> as always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!
> 
> if you have any questions or just wanna say hello, my [tumblr is here](https://katierosefun.tumblr.com/)  
> !


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